Italy (July 24 - July 29)

On Saturday, July 23^rd, I began the long bus ride from Pokhara to Kathmandu.  It was a sad day of goodbyes.  That afternoon I caught a flight back to Dubai (for another miserable overnight airport stay) before catching the flight to Istanbul where I would resume my trip. 

Enigmatic Dubai with a view (?) of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world

I had a good part of the day to kill in Istanbul so I returned to the historical area where I wandered around the now familiar streets.  I should probably mention that Turkish food is really good.  It’s hearty, flavorful and relatively cheap in the numerous shops that line the busy streets.  Following my one-hour metro ride to a different airport, I boarded the quickish flight to Milan. 

Because I arrived so late, most of the public transport was winding down.  I finally managed to catch a late bus into the city’s main train terminal where I wandered the empty streets until I found an open hotel room.  Actually, I followed one of the “arranger-type” people who offer assistance, with the hope of a tip or concession from the hotel to where you have been delivered.  At 2:00 a.m. following almost 40 hours of travel and with an enormous backpack on my back (and a smaller one on my chest), I was thrilled to cooperate.

Waking up the next morning, I felt a little like Dorothy emerging from her house into Munchkinland.  I vividly recall walking into the bathroom and noticing the dry tile floors with no bugs in sight and finding a separate shower with warm water and a sit down toilet.  The contrasts between this and almost all of my other previous lodgings were stark.  And, while I honestly felt a degree of sadness that the more “rustic” parts of my trip had ended, I also felt a huge relief that I was now back with the familiar.  Outside the hotel, the streets were busy with Italians drinking espresso and eating buttery pastries in corner cafes.  It was exhilarating.  Signs written in Italian seemed happily mundane when compared to the confusion of letters and symbols I had tried to decipher in Chinese, Thai, Nepali or Turkish.

Later that morning I made my way by metro to the Milan Cathedral. 

Construction on the site began in 1386 and continued with starts and stops through 1965.  While I think the Cathedral has to be one of the most beautiful on Earth, apparently, this view is not universally held.   In my support, I offer the opinion of Mark Twain who wrote:

“What a wonder it is! So grand, so solemn, so vast! And yet so delicate, so airy, so graceful! A very world of solid weight, and yet it seems ...a delusion of frostwork that might vanish with a breath!... The central one of its five great doors is bordered with a bas-relief of birds and fruits and beasts and insects, which have been so ingeniously carved out of the marble that they seem like living creatures-- and the figures are so numerous and the design so complex, that one might study it a week without exhausting its interest...everywhere that a niche or a perch can be found about the enormous building, from summit to base, there is a marble statue, and every statue is a study in itself...Away above, on the lofty roof, rank on rank of carved and fretted spires spring high in the air, and through their rich tracery one sees the sky beyond. ... (Up on) the roof...springing from its broad marble flagstones, were the long files of spires, looking very tall close at hand, but diminishing in the distance...We could see, now, that the statue on the top of each was the size of a large man, though they all looked like dolls from the street... They say that the Cathedral of Milan is second only to St. Peter's at Rome. I cannot understand how it can be second to anything made by human hands.” 

Not too bad.

In the detractors column, I would place John Ruskin (a seemingly snobbish art critic of the Victorian era), who noted:

“[the cathedral steals] from every style in the world: and every style spoiled. The cathedral is a mixture of Perpendicular with Flamboyant, the latter being peculiarly barbarous and angular, owing to its being engrafted, not on a pure, but a very early penetrative Gothic … The rest of the architecture among which this curious Flamboyant is set is a Perpendicular with horizontal bars across: and with the most detestable crocketing, utterly vile. Not a ray of invention in a single form… Finally the statues all over are of the worst possible common stonemasons’ yard species, and look pinned on for show.”

… and Oscar Wilde who wrote to his mother that:

"The Cathedral is an awful failure. Outside the design is monstrous and inartistic. The over-elaborated details stuck high up where no one can see them; everything is vile in it; it is, however, imposing and gigantic as a failure, through its great size and elaborate execution."

Despite these contrasting views, I found the Cathedral to be magnificent.  The exterior is dripping in ornamentation. 

No stone is merely a stone, as every surface seems to be the pedestal for a unique sculpture.  This can all be appreciated in great detail by paying for the well-worth-it ticket to the top of the cathedral where you can wander among the buttresses, stand face to face with saints and apostles and have your picture taken on the center of the roof. 

I next toured La Scala which was only a few blocks away.  The beautiful La Scala is recognized as one of the leading opera and ballet theatres in the world.  Since 1778, La Scala has been the stage for some of the most talented musicians ever to have lived.  Despite its importance, because I was unable to see a performance at the venue, it was a little like receiving an empty Rolex box for a present.

On my way back to the metro, I opted not to spin around on the mosaic bull scrotum located on the floor of one of the shopping galleries, thus failing to pocket the free good luck that is promised to the willing whirlers.

That afternoon I hopped on the train to Bolzano, with a transfer in Verona (hello Romeo & Juliet).  From Verona to Bolzano, the train begins to enter the Italian Alps.  The Dolomites were what had drawn me to Italy. 

They are a particularly stunning mountain range that runs between Austria and Italy.  Because the area they occupy was once a part of Austria, it has a uniquely Tyrolean feel, from the alpine meadows, to wooden chalets, to apfel stroedel.  It also has fantastic pizzas.  (How I’ve missed bread!)  German is frequently spoken and most of the towns carry both Italian (Bolzano) and German (Bozen) names.

Bolzano is a beautiful, historic town, which in addition to the large, open parks, flower boxes, rivers and cobblestone streets, is also home to the South Tyrol Archeological Museum where Ötzi lives.  Discovered on a glacier north of Bolzano in 1991, Ötzi the Iceman is one of the world’s oldest mummies (about 3,000 B.C.).  He had already spent 600 years encased in ice before the Egyptian pharaoh Cheops began construction of his famous pyramid.   Ötzi’s natural preservation (as opposed to an embalming) has provided the world with a rare, detailed snapshot of the Stone Age in Europe.
 
In this setting I heard one of the most cynical comments of my trip.  While walking on a path next to the river, I was approached by a cyclist who asked for directions.  While searching for my map I gushed, “Isn’t this place gorgeous?!”  The man responded, “Well, I am from Poland and compared to our mountains, these hills seem rather boring.”  Really?  What sort of person could be “bored” by this scenery?  As he cycled away … past the castle surrounded by the vineyard … I could only shake my head incredulously.

On Tuesday morning I took the quick bus ride to Ortisei (St. Ulrich).  From here I took the Seceda Cable car to the jump-off point for my hike. 

I love hiking in the Alps because (i) numerous cable cars whisk you quickly to the mountain tops, (ii) the scenery is possibly unparalleled, (iii) trails are well-marked and accessible, and (iv) you can pick up a hot chocolate every few hours at one of the small cottages or refuges along the trails …  oh, and (v) no bears! 

This day was exactly (except for the somewhat heavy cloud cover) what I hoped it would be.  It was a long (mostly easy to moderate) hike through green alpine meadows, over exposed limestone passes and ending with a long, steep descent into the valley below to Selva (Wokenstein). 

Lucky alpinist bovine

Stone "graffiti" along the trail 

From there, I caught the bus back to Bolzano.

On Wednesday the 27^th, I packed my bags and caught the bus to Castelrotto (Kastelruth).  Could this area get any nicer?!  This tourist town sits in the middle of vast green meadows and is guarded over by a fairytale, onion-domed bell tower at the base of which is a romantic public fountain.  Wow, wow, wow! 

With no time to waste, I made my way (short bus ride to Siusi, followed by a long aerial cableway ride, in fact, the world’s longest such ride) to Compaccio. 

My destination was the Alpe di Siusi, the largest high-Alpine meadow in Europe.  The scenery was not quite as dramatic as the day before, nor was the weather as clear, but the “meadow” (it’s vast) was, nevertheless, breathtaking … at least until all of the views were obscured by a heavy rain.

And this is why we are glad for small restaurants dotting the hillside serving delicious hot chocolate.

I took the cableway back to Siusi where I walked back to Castelrotto, down country roads, through grass pastures and past onion-domed churches, all the while asking myself, how is it that some people actually get to live in places like this. 

St. Valentine Church, built in 1244

On Thursday, I returned to Bolzano where I caught the train to Como in Italy’s famous Lake District.  Given what I had just seen, I have to confess that Como, despite (and perhaps as a result of) its fame, seemed a little overrated (Oh no!  Was I becoming the Polish cyclist?)  It’s possible that I just needed to get off the beaten path.  I would love to return someday when I have a little more time.     

Rainbow directly over Como

Friday was spent walking Como’s streets, visiting its historical sites and taking a lake cruise before heading back to Milan where I caught the flight to Stockholm. 

Arrivederci Italia!

 

Nepal (Part 2) (July 17 – 23)

When I left Nepal for the first time, I could not shake the feeling that I had left things undone.  Worse than that, I felt as if I had possibly left Nirmal worse off than when I met him.   How could I just return home while knowing that my friends would always barely be scraping by?  Mid way through my time in Turkey I decided to return to Nepal to see if there was anything I could do in the short term to place them on a better foundation.  I returned by way of Dubai, where I spent the night in the airport.  The retina scanners at the immigration desk were just one of the signs that I had entered another, very different place.  (The fact that I was at a type of international crossroads was further highlighted by the two separate lines of stalls in the very modern mens' toilets ... one side had the western sit-down variety, while the other had the Asian squat-down variety.)  It was a hard, long night, but thanks to SKYPE and a $16 McDonalds meal combo, I survived. 

I can’t explain how happy I was to land in Kathmandu.  It felt like I was coming home after a long journey.  Had it only been two weeks?!  On Monday morning I caught a flight to Pokhara.  Unlike all of my previous days in Pokhara, the weather was beautiful and I could actually see the mountains! 

Maccapucchre (Fish Tail) Mountain near Pokhara.

Nirmal and I immediately began our work week.  Every day we tackled several projects.  Among other things, we opened a bank account, we visited three private schools with the intention of enrolling his younger brother Ram, we went to the hospital to have Nirmal’s arm examined by a specialist (he had broken it badly the previous year and it had healed improperly), we filed the paperwork to obtain a passport and we designed and printed some trekking guide cards for Nirmal.

Nirmal waiting in one of many lines to file his passport application. 

We also managed to have some fun by hiking to the World Peace Pagoda ...

Water buffalo on the trail to the Peace Pagoda.

 swimming in one of the rivers that feeds Phewa Lake, ...

and celebrating Nirmal’s birthday (July 24^th) with his family and neighbors. 

The week went by entirely too fast.  Leaving Nepal for the second time was brutally hard, but at least this time I felt that it was now possible to continue to help NIrmal and his family from abroad.


In Nepal, caste and social status follow people around in ways that are difficult to understand for someone from the United States.   The insecurity it produces for those who are at the losing end of this system is almost tangible.  I saw its sting at one of the schools we visited, where we were rebuffed before we could even ask questions about an admissions process or curriculum.  I almost came unglued.  Nirmal, however, who was more accustomed to these slights, was able to shrug it off. 

Fortunately, our experience at the Motherland School  (http://motherland.edu.np)  was entirely different.  When we visited the campus, we found the Principal, Prem Pokhrel, tutoring a local boy who was not even a student at the school.  He showed us into his office where we spent 30 minutes discussing Ram and the school.  He agreed to perform an academic assessment of Ram later in the week.  When we returned for the interview, Ram was white with angst.  The discomfort he felt at having to meet with the Principal was heartbreaking.  But equally heartwarming was the gentle way with which Prem spoke to Ram as he tried to determine what course of action might be best.  Here was someone who loved children in a complete and honest way.  He mentioned at one time that he felt responsible for ALL of Nepal’s children.  I was moved to tears by his empathy and kindness.  From Prem (which means “love” in Nepali), I learned that perhaps the ONLY thing that really matters in this life is how we treat others.   

I returned to Nepal because I wanted to help my friends.  As was always to be the case, I was the one who ended up being helped the most.  

Nirmal and his friend Hemant.

Nirmal, Ram (his brother in yellow), Loxmie (his mother, to the right) and neighbors.

Melancholic traveler at the Pokhara bus terminal.

  

Turkish Riviera (July 9 - 16)

On Saturday the 9^th of July I left Istanbul for the Mediterranean city of Antalya.  Antalya is a sprawling metropolis and is the gateway to the Turkish Riviera.  I stayed in the well-preserved ancient quarter, known as Kaleiçi, which is enclosed behind a beautiful wall.  

The cobblestone streets are lined with restaurants, rug shops and other souvenir kiosks.  Despite the charm of the old town, Antalya’s main attraction is the miles of white pebble beaches. 

On Sunday, following a supremely long, out-of-way bus ride I made it to the beach.  (The bus driver might have told me to catch the next bus, but instead took me on a ride all over town until he finished his route, only then, after restarting his route, did he eventually pass the beaches where I had hoped to be an hour earlier.)  On the beach I happened to sit next to a friendly Turk (of Kurdish decent) and his son, who, after talking for a while asked if I might like to meet his family and neighbors.   Really?!  Who would turn down an opportunity to spend Sunday afternoon with a Turkish family in the intimacy of their home.  I spent the afternoon eating, drinking, swimming and relaxing with Emre and his neighbors in the complex, all while talking openly about politics, religion, family, the economy. 

I am constantly reassured by the fact that people are not so different across the globe.  Thanks Emre for opening your home to this random visitor from the US.

   

On Monday I caught the bus to Olympos, which turned out to be one of the big surprises of my trip to the Turkish Riviera.  A person does not happen upon Olympus, one goes in search of it.  Billed as a hippie colony full of tree houses, I thought it might be worth a visit.  I wasn’t the first.  Visitors have been spending the night at this site for well over 2,000 years when in was an important Lycian city.

The modern “ settlement” is nothing more a line of hostels on a dusty canyon road.  After some initial aggravation, I landed in a single-person cabin in an awesome place (www.yakamozpansiyon.com).  This was the start of two days of complete bliss.  Despite the heat, it was a total joy to relax for hours reading and typing away while sitting back on the large cushions lining the open air cabanas at my pension.  Perhaps I was just tired, but this place was casting a spell on me and I hadn’t event made it to the beach.  Access to the beach is by means of a dirt road that follows the beautiful Ulupinar Stream as it meanders past the ancient ruins of Olympos. 

 The stream emerges onto a sandy beach full of sun worshippers.  As was my experience everywhere in Turkey, the water was pristine and inviting. 

If I had not been worried about making it to Ephesus, I might have spent even more time in this enclave.  I wondered if people got stuck there, never to leave, like an episode of The Twilight Zone.  On my second night, I decided to visit the geological/mythological site of Chimaera.  Following a 45-minute bus ride, we arrived at the parking lot where our group began our hike up the dark mountain trail.  Using only flashlights to guide the way, it might have been more unsettling, but for the fact that there was a steady stream of hikers both climbing and descending the mountain.  After about 30 minutes of hiking, we emerged onto a granite hill.  Incredibly, the hillside contained numerous natural hallows from which burn eternal flames.  Not just a few little flames, but actual fireplace-style fires.  

Fed by underground, naturally-occurring gasses, the flames have been a marvel for thousands of years.  The ancients believed the flames resulted from a dragon which fell to earth after it was slain by Bellerophon riding the winged horse Pegasus.  How does nature come up with this stuff?!

At about 11:00 the next morning, I began an 8-hour bus ride to Fethiye where I spent the night.  Midway between Olympos and Fethiye, our bus passed through Kale which in the 4^th century was important enough to merit its own bishop, one of whom went on to achieve pop-icon status as St. Nicholas (a.k.a. Santa Clause).   The nice harbor town of Fethiye ...

while charming on its own, is the big city cousin to the gorgeous small beach town of Ölüdeniz, which is a close 30 minute bus ride away.  Surrounded by tall mountains, Ölüdeniz has the distinction of being one of the most paraglidingist towns I have ever seen.  

At one time, I counted at least 20 in the sky.  After a morning on the beach and some time floating in the perfect Mediterranean water ...

I made my way back to Fethiye where I caught the long bus ride to Selçuk.

Selkuk is the closest town to the ruins of Ephesus.  After a late night arrival, I signed up the next morning for a group tour of the archaeological sites.  While I’m normally an advocate of do-it-yourself travel, I think the tour was the best option under these circumstances.  The distances are too great and the information too vast to manage in the tight windows that most people have.  Our guide was terrific.  We began by visiting the hilltop site where Mary the mother of Jesus is supposed to have lived after leaving Jerusalem.  

Christian tradition holds that St. John brought the Virgin Mary to Ephesus either 4 or 6 years after the death of Christ.  The site was identified as such in a vision of the nun Anna Katherina Emmerich.

Down the hill from the House of the Virgin Mary are the ruins of Ephesus.  Ephesus remains one of the best preserved cities of the ancient world.  

Odeon, used for concerts, theatrical shows and meetings of the Municipal Council

Inscriptions on the columns at the city's entrance advised  visitors of  laws and other important information.

The original city is believed to have been founded in about 3,000 BC.  During the course of its existence, Ephesus was moved and rebuilt on at least four occasions as a result of natural disasters such as earthquakes, fires and the silting up of the Kuçuk Menderes river which blocked access to the port.  The ruins are a hodgepodge of original stones and modern supporting masonry.  

The Celcus Library built in 117 AD

One of the challenges for archaeologists is trying to reconstruct the old city of Ephesus from the combined ruins of four preceding cities.  Because the Ephesians used existing stones and statues from prior sites for each subsequent rebuilding, many stones have markings identified with an earlier Ephesus site which have been used in a completely different ways in the latest construction.  

The site was fantastic. 

At the end of our tour we visited the ruins of the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the World.  When completed in 430 BC, the temple was 125 meters long and 60 meters high.  Sadly it was “burned down” (how you burn down a marble building is a mystery to me) by a mad man on July 21, 356 BC.  Only a few partial columns remain to provide any glimpse of what the original structure might have been like.

That evening I took the bus to Izmir where I boarded a plane back to Istanbul.  I spent the night (the 15^th) in Istanbul and enjoyed a nice morning before heading back out to the airport for my flight back to Kathmandu (by way of Dubai).