-Justa Jester

We opened our Facebook account and came across this Status update in the News Feed and felt the immediate time/space propulsion back to Metelkova Mesto in Ljubljana, Slovenia. While we do believe there are some boundaries to the canvas, Justa Jester (aka David Cymerman) verbally paints a scene sensory delight, one that we have had the opportunity to experience in the capital city of Slovenia.

Metelkova Mesto (“Metelkova City”) is an autonomous squat in the capitol city of Slovenia. A former barracks of the former Yugoslavian Army, turned artist’s settlement. We spent our first night in Ljubljana partying here, and were immediately sparked into dreams of an autonomous artist’s center in Chicago. An entire block dedicated to whatever people want it to be, to be painted and repainted, boring brick wall defacing turned into dialogue. The millions of expressway underpasses turned into color chambers and parks like the one at the Kennedy and Logan Blvd. Maybe all of the Gold Coast actually gets painted gold spattered by, largely, incomprehensible sentence fragments (like here). Anything but the tan box treatment of the Daley’s Graffiti Busters. Save the busters for the gang turf war tags on random joe’s cornerstones, or better yet, turn the Graffiti Busters into full-blown Graffiti Artists that turn crap tags into reputable works. Plain and Simple turn the world’s vast Interstitial Space over to the people and the world will become a more colorful place!

Always a work in progress at Metelkova Mesto (photo by BirdonBike)

and endless Colorful backdrop in Metelkova (photo by BirdonBike)

Metelkavo Mesto (photo by BirdonBike)

We aren't just talk Graffiti, are we? (photo by BirdonBike)

(photo by BirdonBike)

(photo by BirdonBike)

Interstitial Space along the Danube in Vienna (photo by BirdonBike)

Vienna Graffiti (photo by BirdonBike)

Gray is better when it is covered in Colors ((photo by BirdonBike, Vienna)

Now for our call for submissions or a call to artists; Our friend Necip from Guzelcamli (see here and here) has been battling the Turkish beton (turkish for concrete) movement for some thirty years. He has gone from having a view of the Greek Island of Samos in the Aegean Sea to being blocked in on both sides by the condos of Aydinites and Izmirites who occasionally inhabit them in the summer months.

The picture below shows the remarkable canvas that was erected a little over a year ago that needs some coats of paint. Necip is a good man and we are sure that if one was so inclined to take a vacation to turkey and work on this awesome blank canvas, one could score a pretty good deal on accomodation. Hell we dug a hole in his garden for a drastically reduced rate. Not to mention, Necip’s food is amazing and his capacity for long nights of wine and music is boundless.

If you feel like you need a vacation and want to make some art in the process, let us know. We can put you in touch.

Necip's Blank Canvas. An artists dream is yours for the taking, so long as you can keep up with Necip's cooking at the Ecer Pension, (on the Aegean Sea in Guzelcamli, Turkey)

In fact, these are all probably quite true, determinable from the inescapable need to address our truancy, alone, but that last week, in the sentimental expression of  “oh man” accompanied with eyes looking to the floor and a drop of the chest in a warm sigh,  “that was good”, was really, really good!

To say we were lucky is an understatement; we were downright blessed. In fact, that statement really ought to be spread across the whole of our social experiences of Turkey in the last 35 days of our journey, and the whole of our past three and a half months in general, with obvious standouts. But we reserve that sentence now for the last week, for that is the subject of this post, not a total recall or sentimental recollection of our favorites of the journey as a whole, written so as to find some closure. No, this is just about the last week, which one could argue, does the job on its own.

We arrived to Istanbul a day earlier than expected, and were having some difficulty connecting via telephone with our contact there. We arrived on a ferry just after dusk and decided to grab a hotel room in Sultanahmet, to recoup and attack Istanbul city streets to find Celal (in the Turkish language ‘C’s are pronounced as ‘J’s) the next day. We got a fresh start in the morning, leaving part of our luggage at the hotel we were to check into in four days time.

Riding around Istanbul was a trip and our map only covered, in detail, the center of the city 20 million people. We were in search of Bagicilar neighborhood and kept an eye on our compass to keep us heading generally in the right direction through the labyrinth, until a man on a messenger’s scooter asked us where we were headed – in Turkish, of course – and no sooner had we said, he was off with a wave of his hand indicating his hire as our fearless leader through the muck of round-a-bouts and underpasses and streets nary have seen a tourist. He led us almost nearly all the way to the center of Bagicilar, often blocking traffic to get us through roundabouts safely. It took us maybe an hour and a half to navigate the 20 km to Bagicilar (bah-je-lar) that would have otherwise taken us three on our own.

We got to the Mosque where we had planned to meet Celal and were immediately surrounded by a large group of curious men, intrigued by our bicycles, and amazed there were tourists in their neighborhood. We tried to answer their questions as we waited for Celal and were really excited to find ourselves outside of the tourist center, laden with prodding vendors touting the best of Istanbul in their respective restaurant.

We were to stay in Celal’s uncle’s home, and we didn’t really know what to expect, at all and what we got was far beyond our expectations…..way beyond.  We are enamored with the Aslan family.

There wasn’t a single person in the whole neighborhood that didn’t seem to be one of Celal’s uncles, or aunts, or cousins, and one by one, they came to the apartment to meet us. We were showered with incredible food on the low table in the living room, smoked nargile and worked navigate our language barriers. Luckily we had Celal, a Rotary International exchange student in Woodstock, IL the year prior (hence our roundabout way of getting into contact) to help translate.

We stayed with the family for four or five days until we had to check into a hotel we had arranged, in order to have an address to ship our bike boxes, prior to our departure from the states. It was hard to explain to the family why we were going to stay in a hotel and not finish out our stay in their home, because we couldn’t really explain it to ourselves. We felt a bit empty and insincere when we first sat in our hotel room alone. It didn’t feel right, but we needed to do it. We had work to do, those bikes weren’t going to disassemble and pack themselves and there wasn’t really anyway to sort out our final tasks in the Aslan’s home. Not because it was small or anything had any derogatory characteristics, no we say this because of their overwhelming hospitality, and our incessant curiosity produced an environment that would drive one to tell oneself, on a reoccurring basis, ‘Oh that important task can wait until a little later’.

Of course we saw the sites, feel head over heels with Islamic tiles, found the best bowl of lentil soup, bartered at the Grand Bazaar and strolled as tourists in Taksim. But our Istanbul is in Bagiclar.  We went to the Aslan’s for one last dinner the night before our early morning departure, (this time without, Celal’s translation service as he had to go back to school) and left with open invitations to visit their family in the east of Turkey, and plan to do so on the second leg of our cycling Journey, aka, our Honeymoon!

Our Motor Scooter Guide through the twisting, turning, round-a-bout, filled street of Greater Istanbul! Our morning Hero!

Our first Dinner with the Aslans

Smoking Nargile, Eating Walnuts with Raisins and learning Turkish until the wee hours of the night

Bendirhan (Father), Canan (Daughter), and Sebiha (Mother)

Celal, Our Hero!

Shopping at the Local bazaar in Bagcilar

Chad give Celal a haircut, Sultan Style, at the Grand Bazaar

Chad with The Queens of Bagcilar

Attending a Kurdish Wedding with the Aslans

We tried our best to stay in step as we danced the traditional Kurdish style. It was suprisingly difficult, but extraordinary to watch.

Jowita with the Bride and bridal party

Ilhan's baked his first cake with the support of only a few women in the kitchen!

The Second day of the Kurdish Wedding. The bride and Groom are both around 17 years old!

Last night in Istanbul with the Aslan Family

Night time sight seeing with Celal and Ilhan

The Spice Bazaar

Getting schooled in Backgammon, the most popular game in Turkey, by Celal and Emrah

Time for Nargile with Celal, Emrah, and Burcu

Jowita tries her hand at carpet weaving. We were told, this carpet, which will measure about one and a half meters long, while take two years to complete.

Jowita in the inner courtyard of the Blue Mosque

the tiles Interior of Blue Mosque

Elephant columns of the Blue Mosque

Morning on the Terrace of the Hanedan Hotel overlooking the Sea of Marmara

Chad making a drawing of the Aya Sophia

Interior domes of one of the many buildings of the Topkapi Palace

We love Ottoman Tiles! Those Sultans had some serious sense of style

Jowita with Tiled Backdrop

Jowita with Sea of Marmara backdrop

Large vessel heading towards the Bosphorous River towards the Black Sea

Night on the side streets of the Taksim neighborhood

Vessels large and small at Sunrise over the Sea of Marmara

Aya Sophia and the collision of faiths

Interior Aya Sophia

Ancient Mosaic of Christ in Aya Sophia

Jowita at the Old Book Bazaar

The Grand Bazaar

It is hard to think what Bursa would have meant to us if we hadn’t met Ahmet, and Anne. The treat of staying at the Hotel Gunes is the chance occurrence (very strong chance at that) with Ahmet in the hotel lobby. By using the word Hotel, we hope you are not conjuring images of the holiday inn. Hotel Gunes is a very small place set inside a renovated Ottoman House in a bustling little market area. The lobby is often dimly lit with the older couple that owns the joint sitting on the couch staring at the ironic television. They do not speak much English beyond the most basic of phrases, but after being highlighted as Lonely Planets top pick for budget hotel in Bursa, receive probably the highest number of independent travelers and backpackers, of all hotels in Bursa. Ahmet, being a man of curiosity with an aptitude for conversation in all things related to “living” (as in living life to it fullest, blah blah) with his deep seeded love for his city Bursa, has taken full advantage of Hotel Gunes’s, Lonely Planet stature. He is quick to claim Bursa as simply “the best city anywhere,” and with Ahmet as a guide and an Irish Anne to keep the attraction of his eye; he is pretty close to being accurate.

Upon our first encounter with Ahmet, we immediately had a two-day itinerary hand written into our notebook. We had only planned for one whole day there, but we were open to change, as always, and, of course, that change quickly came with mention of “Hamam” (also known as Turkish Bath).

We got to work on the Itinerary on our own with plans to meet with Ahmet later that evening t a tea house to listen to traditional music. We shopped in the wonderful bazaar, visited a shadow puppet master’s shop, visited some wonderful Ottoman sites, including the Green Mosque Tomb, full of amazing tile work. We then returned to the hotel to drop of a few things before heading out for a bite to eat.

Then came Anne. Oh Anne. The 66, going on 26, year old German-Irish wonder. Anne. What a treat. Jowita will surely never forget her first visit to a Hamam if it weren’t for Anne.

Ahmet was a wonderful guide and conversationalist. Our experience of Bursa, with the aid of his expertise, and the chance meeting with Anne, is way up at the top of the list, (not that we keep one). We give many thanks to Ahmet, and hope to see him again in round 2.

Shadow Puppet master of Bursa ın hıs Karagoz shop

Tomb at Green Mosque

Whırlıng Dervishes ın Bursa

Guıtars ın process durıng a vısıt to the workshop of Bursa guıtar master

Vısıt to a mountaın vıllage known for ıts Ottoman homes

Chad and our Fırends Ahmet from Bursa and Anne from Ireland

Anne and Jowıta ınsıde restored Ottoman Hamam

Turkish Tea House where we sat and listened to muscians come together after work to play music

We arrıved at 11:00 at nıght and had to rıde 10km along a busy hıghway ınto Bursa, a cıty of 1.5 mıllıon people, wıth our lıghts lıghtıng the way.

On the bus Chad attempted to call the Hotel to let them know we would be arrıvıng late. The phone was nearly out of mınutes and the lady who answered spoke no englısh. Chad sımply saıd 2 – 10 – Otobus Izmir Bursa and the phone gave out. They seemed to understand perfectly and were waıtıng for us when we fınally arrıved at one ın the mornıng.

Taking the bus to Bursa

The day was raıny almost ın ıts entirety. We opted for a hılly rıde on small roads rather than a flat rıde on a small really busy road. It was a good decısıon. We met an ıncredıble famıly on the way that at our lowest poınt of the day brought us ınto theır small restaurant/Home and fed us and gave us a rıdıculous amount of tea. They really touched our hearts, even more so when they refused our money. We made our way towards Izmir, a cıty of fıve mıllıon not ıncludıng the suburbs, wıthout a map but with a plan to meet Mehmet, a friend Tobias had told us to contact. Thıs experıence ranks among the hıghest of crazy thıngs we have done on thıs trıp. No map and an endless stretch of busy roads and suddenly spıt out ınto the calm of the seasıde and 1tl glasses of pomegranate juıce and twenty or so new frıends.

Camp ın another Olıve grove

The famıly that warmed our hearts and fed our bellıes

The mosque ın the Konak center of Izmir

Gettıng ready to get back on the bıkes after a dınner of Köfte wıth the Izmir bicycle commuity

A pretty annoyıng day that made us feel ready to be fınished with the bıcycles. We had one really nıce stretch of road through some vıllages and hılls and then the rest led us ın the wrong dırectıon through an agrıcultural flat valley that left us tıred and unsure of where we were actually headıng and what our plan really was for the next fıve days.

Camp ın between an olıve grove and a tangerıne grove whıch meant our bags left full of tangerınes!!

The beautıful stretch of road wıth last sun we have seen ın quıte some tıme

Women harvestıng leeks