Ivory Towers...

Yesterday, while heading to the Grand Bazaar, I stumbled upon extreme beauty.

"If anyone has a camera, the light is hitting that mosque perfectly right now" Keaton remarked while the rest of us were too busy looking at our shoes to notice the humongous place of worship straight in front of us.

As I looked up, my breath was actually held. Revealing my inner nerd, I quipped something about the mosque looking like it was straight out of Minas Tirith...

Honestly, though. This view was abnormal. It felt like we had discovered part of a book that had somehow slipping into our reality for just enough time to be photographed and then disappear.

Absolutely my favorite picture from the trip so far. 

No question.

I definitely wanted to share it somehow. So, when I got into a WiFi zone, I did what any good 20-something would do, and put it up on instagram.

I'm not the biggest fan of constant use of sepia, but I have to say. It made this scene look even more breathtaking.

Cофия, България

So, it took me two years, but I finally ended up back at an Eastern European speakeasy. Thank God.

That was about two years too long. 

"So, if you have it in you for one more, I know of a fantastic spot."

That's how it started.

Then we walked another two blocks talking about Sofian architecture and the similarities and differences between Bulgarian and Turkish cultural quirks. 

I would have kept going, but suddenly Eric said, "Turn here."

I looked up and to the left to see... a pitch black dark alley with a small light in the back. It looked like a garbage alley with an outhouse.

"Really?"

"Yeah, just go down."

I started down the alley, stepping in (I hope) snowmelt puddles, feeling my way by tripping on the uneven concrete tiles.

Made it to the light, turned right up the slight ramp, and pushed open a completely unmarked barn door. I was greeted by the sounds of thirteen different languages, the subtle sounds of mute trumpets and jazz pianos, and the dim lights of candles.

This incredible bar(n) is incredible. It is only lit by candles, no lights, there is no menu, you just have to know what you want, and you have to know someone who knows where it is. Honestly, it's the best bar I've ever been to.

Check out their article on the place here

I tried to take a photo, but the lighting was so dim, I couldn't get anything remotely visible. However, here is a photo taken by spottedbylocals.com

Here's the takeaway from their article:

"They say that in the past this was the place for the intelligentsia and you could only get in if you know the right person. The door was locked and no matter how hard you knock, unless you know the right words, they wouldn’t let you in. During the transition from Communism this place was open to the public but even nowadays the owner refuses to create an Internet site or promote it further."

I'm already excited to go back either tonight or tomorrow.

This city is amazing. I had no idea what to expect from Bulgaria, but wow. 

Just WOW.

This is a place to return to, no questions asked.

Fallen Empires...

So I spent last Saturday hosting an old friend who was in Istanbul for the weekend. It was great. I got to enjoy all of the tourist spots and see some of the places I hadn't been in a few years.

I was almost moved to tears when I walked into the Hagia Sophia this time. It's just stunning.

We used the afternoon to check out the Old Book Bazaar, and I had no idea I was about to find my new favorite shop in the world.

I was browsing outside of all the shops when I looked at a random little basket in the corner. It was filled with coins. 

I picked up a handful and realized what they were. It was a huge collection of international and expired coins.

Needless to say... I was excited...

My Haul

From R to L: 2.5 Old Turkish Lira (1972), 5 French Francs (1972), 1 Italian Lira (1956)

From R to L: 1 UK Shilling (1957), 10 Israeli Acorot (unknown year - no Hebrew here), 1 Russian Ruble (1997), 5 Swiss Rappen (1952)

From R to L: 500 Iranian Rials (1953), 1 Indian Rupee (1999), 100 Bahraini Fils (1995), 5 Chinese Yen (can't read the year...)

 These are my favorite coins:

Top Row, R to L: 5 Cypriot Mils (1972 - note the Greek and Turkish), 5 Soviet Kopek (1987)
Bottom Row, R to L: 50 Bulgarian Stotinki (1974), 10 Yugoslavian Dinar (1983), 20 East German (DDR) Pfennig (1974)

AWESOME, right??

So I go to buy the coins and the shop owner starts showing off his other goods. Turns out he is a fantastic guy.  And he has some fantastic stuff. 

Like...

The Neatest Bills 

10 German Deutschmarks from 1920 (as in, this is the type of bill Germany was ordered to pay for World War I with)
20 Hungarian Pengö from 1941 (this bill is from the Kingdom of Hungary, pre-Communist regime. All time favorite currency. The art nouveau style is exquisite and the art in amazingly detailed)

The Strangest Bill 

.25 Libyan Dinar (unknown date - definitely printed under the Ghaddafi regime)

The Craziest Bills

From T to B: 2 Afghani bill (they are actually called Afghanis - the bill says it's from 1962, I'm not convinced),
25 Iraqi Dinar (unknown year, presumably before 2003),
1000 Iranian Rials (again, unknown date)

500 Russian Rubles (a large, beautiful bill from 1918. This bill was issued by the Russian Tzar, but would have been ciculated in the Soviet Union. Crazy, eh? Also note the watermark on the blank left side. Awesome.
100 Russian Ruble "Katerina" bill from 1910 (Insane. This humongous bill has a perfect watermark of the portrait of Catherine on the blank right side. And the detail is incredible. Sheesh...) 

I was pretty happy as I left that shop.

And I'll definitely be going back. 

O The Places You'll Go...

Wanna know where I've been recently?

Outside the ruins of Miletus...

Inside them... 

And above them... 

In awe of Didyma... 

Completely in love with Aphrodisius... 

Finding myself not afraid in a field of wheat... 

Loving the foreground and background of what I'm seeing... 

Enjoying the cold sunset in Laodecia... 

Entering the gates of Hieropolis... 

Trying to soak up the beauty of the calcium deposits and hot springs in Pamukkale... 

 Wishing I had my trunks for Cleopatra's Pool...

Breaking stereotypes in Cappadocia...

(and I thought they only had mosques in hot weather places) 

Comparing models and the real thing in Capadoccia... 

Tying a knot onto the prayer tree... 

Ashes from the Inferno...

Here's a bit more of the ashes left from the creative inferno.

This is a discription of a couple I saw on the Pitti Palazzo, which is my favorite part of Florence. Picture yourself in a sandstone courtyard that glows in a golden colour...
The young couple clutches. They embrace. It's hard to tell where her purple ends and his navy begins. He pulls away, setting up the timer on his digital camera. She poses, chin in hand, arm on knee. She pretends to be looking off into the distance. Her eyes may not be gazing at him, but he's all she sees. He gets up, comes over, and she pretends that he just entered her vision. He slides his hand under her chin, and pulls her face close to his. Their noses barely miss as love manifests in lips. Click...Flash. Never to be forgotten.

Young woman walks at a rapid pace. She throws one hand around; fluttering a piece of paper held tightly. She gesticulates, but the person on the phone can't see her desperate body language. She finds herself at a curb, not knowing where it came from. Her words slow, they become cold. She spins and sits simultanesouly. The words stop all together. Her head hangs, finding rest in the hand not holding the phone. Defeat eminates from the curb. She mutters three words.
Are. You. Sure?
Then she rises. The world seems to spin, but she isn't dizzy. She finds that rapid pace again. And goes back the way she came.

Here's my third attempt at poetry. Yeah, I know. It's real cheezy...

Fire-Fusing

What is searching for the spark?
Itìs not pursuing prefection.
It's not pining for peace.
It's not looking for love,
That's always in the wrong place.
It's really the mixing of music.
It's the tracking of a tempo.
The blending of beats,
It's rhyming rhythms; it's melding melodies.
It's called hunting for harmony.
It's about knoting knowledge,
Welding worries, and building beauty.
It's grafting graces,
Or fusing fires,
It's an integrated interlace.
It's about stitiching synchronicity;
It's hand-held heartbeats.
It's called hunting for harmony.

Sorry if there are various and numerous spelling and grammar errors here. I'm typing away on an Italian keyboard, so weird keys and placements, and no spell check. Course, I should mention that I'm typing in an internet café with a view of the moonlit Colloseum.

Ah... life is sweet.

Firenze is the Birthplace of the Renaissance After All...

Over a week. Sheesh... I'm ashamed. Here's what's beautiful though: I've been writing a ton. Let's recap the past 8 days a little bit shall we?

Basically, for the first week, Florence sucked. Reasons: 1)It rained, a ton. And if you know me, you know that I love rain. However, I love snow more. I wanted snow. Bad. I got rain. A ton of rain. 2) Our residence is pretty cool, but it's also pretty cool. I mean seriously drafty. So, I was wet and cold, all the time. Yuck. 3) I just wanted to sleep, but my bed was really firm, and my pillow gave me wicked bad neck aches. 4) My bed was also a buffet. For bed bugs. I got eaten alive. I was symmetrical for a while. This also made sleeping not-so-good, as I would wake up due to extreme itchiness, and then couldn't go back to sleep because of visions of bed bugs danced in my head.

Ok, so combine all that into a week, and you get suck. Blech. It was no good. BUT I'm done whining. Which is why I called this entry renaissance, or rebirth, to the lay man.

Yesterday was the brutal day. I woke up at 5 in the morning, and couldn't get back to sleep. Shower was cold. Breakfast wasn't for two and a half hours. yikes. So, I got on the internet and talked with people from home. Ah, home. Those conversations were sparks, they got a bit of a fire going. I combined those sparks with a bit of oxygen in the form of Battle Studies (I got it early and it's incredible). Now, I had a fire. A serious creative fire. You know how artists always seem to be moody, brooding, angry, dirty, and overall just un-content?

I think that they do it on purpose.

It makes for GOOD inspiration.

I went on a writing tear. I think I doubled the amount of space taken up in my journal. Poems, lyrics, quips, creative stories, observations, you name it. It was sweet. Never been in a writing inferno before.

The problem is, that this writing tear completely changed my mood. I'm SO happy right now. I'm on a creative high. I mean, I wrote a poem an hour before our café night last night, and then read it cause I liked it enough (I also read the poem I wrote about Auschwitz [Apparently there's been some confusion, but I did write that poem down there] and the lyrics to the song Wheel.)

I also have a new bed. Thanks to my sympathetic professors, who came and helped me put my old bed into make-shift quarantine, got me a new one, and gave me Benadryl. Basically, I woke up to a totally new city. I went on a walk today, totally alone, and loved it.

I'm now currently trying to emulate my writing inferno, but it's not as easy as it was.

I'm enjoying the trouble though.

I like poetry for the first time in my life. I think I'm gonna keep writing it...

Here's my second attempt:

Spin

When does a cycle become a spiral?

After all, they're both a type of circle.

What if life is just an orbit?

What if this is all just another cog in the Karma machine?

Is it just a looped rhythm-beat?

Isn't getting dirty just another form of coming clean?

How do you stop a wave's ebbs and flows,

When even a ring's got it's highs and lows?

Do we always remember the sound,

of a boomerang coming back around?

Maybe we're not supposed to change our life-ring,

Maybe I'm thinking just a bit clearer,

Thinking a circle's just a wave on a mirror.