While I was dreaming this morning, I opened my left eye. The bright morning lit our ceiling, our wardrobe, the window, and my nose. Although my thoughts were deeply somnolent, I commanded myself to touch my nose to guarantee my location as fully present whether within a dream or awake. I felt myself touching my face. I saw no change from my open eye. This test having been tried three or so times, I was condemned to this half-world until I called out to myself, jumping up. I went to wipe my face, though now I saw my hands were deep under the covers.
"We felt very nice and snug, the more so since it was so chilly out of doors; indeed out of bed-clothes too, seeing that there was no fire in the room. The more so, I say, because truly to enjoy your bodily warmth some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more. But if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm." -Melville, Moby Dick
We explored ancient ruins today. Four Americans who had pulled to the side of the road in Turkey. To the side of a windy dirt road in the foothills. Across the valley from the mighty snow-capped Mt. Erciyes whose ashes once covered all our surroundings and were compacted into loose rock, easily chiseled. We ascended the foothills and dove in and out of man-made caves. Some were multi-story. Some had shelves, cubby spaces for beds, and chimneys clogged with fallen rock. This landscape is our home for now. It exists in parallel with those homes we left, the state we have in common that instilled us with the dialect and culture that so easily brings us together in this foreign land.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Friday, October 3, 2014
Cappadocia
Another epistolary post.
Today Jena and I explored a little of Cappadocia. It's a big area, kind of a region, containing a few towns that's known for its houses and underground cities that are carved into the rocks. Somewhere around 1900 years ago, some of the first Christians hid in the area because of persecution from the Romans, I believe. Now the place is totally touristy, kind of like Sedona, if it had ancient history sites everywhere you look. There are lots of "cave" hotels, for instance, that you can stay in. They're built into rocky mountain sides.
To me, the place looks like Bryce Canyon in Utah, although I don't think I've ever been there. The colors here are less spectacular, though. Put another way, it's kind of like the Valley of the Goblins in Goblin Valley, but many of the goblins have been hollowed out for living.
In any case, I thought of you two today because Jena and I stumbled into this place that reminded me a lot of the Fire Furnace in Arches because you couldn't really see where you were going--there were all these waves of rocks and ups and downs and trees and whatnot. There was a mess of narrow trails that went every which way.
Most interesting and scary was this human-made tunnel that went below and through all the rock formations. At times, it was completely black, and since I didn't have a flashlight, I had to use my camera, which produced an eerie orange light for me for a few seconds before the flash went off. At other times there were small holes in the roof that reached to the surface and let some light in. I didn't explore the whole thing because a) I was afraid of the pitch black sections when I could only see so far and so much with my camera, b) I was worried I might trip in the darkness and smack my head, thus leaving Jena with no idea where I was, and c) I had no idea where I'd pop out at times. There were some places where the tunnel was open to a hole above, but the floor of the tunnel was ten feet down or so. What would have really improved the experience would have been a flashlight, so maybe I can go back and do that another day. In fact, I think Jena and I are going back to Cappadocia tomorrow (we have rented a car). We may return to the place we were, but we may just dive into to another area.
Today Jena and I explored a little of Cappadocia. It's a big area, kind of a region, containing a few towns that's known for its houses and underground cities that are carved into the rocks. Somewhere around 1900 years ago, some of the first Christians hid in the area because of persecution from the Romans, I believe. Now the place is totally touristy, kind of like Sedona, if it had ancient history sites everywhere you look. There are lots of "cave" hotels, for instance, that you can stay in. They're built into rocky mountain sides.
To me, the place looks like Bryce Canyon in Utah, although I don't think I've ever been there. The colors here are less spectacular, though. Put another way, it's kind of like the Valley of the Goblins in Goblin Valley, but many of the goblins have been hollowed out for living.
In any case, I thought of you two today because Jena and I stumbled into this place that reminded me a lot of the Fire Furnace in Arches because you couldn't really see where you were going--there were all these waves of rocks and ups and downs and trees and whatnot. There was a mess of narrow trails that went every which way.
Most interesting and scary was this human-made tunnel that went below and through all the rock formations. At times, it was completely black, and since I didn't have a flashlight, I had to use my camera, which produced an eerie orange light for me for a few seconds before the flash went off. At other times there were small holes in the roof that reached to the surface and let some light in. I didn't explore the whole thing because a) I was afraid of the pitch black sections when I could only see so far and so much with my camera, b) I was worried I might trip in the darkness and smack my head, thus leaving Jena with no idea where I was, and c) I had no idea where I'd pop out at times. There were some places where the tunnel was open to a hole above, but the floor of the tunnel was ten feet down or so. What would have really improved the experience would have been a flashlight, so maybe I can go back and do that another day. In fact, I think Jena and I are going back to Cappadocia tomorrow (we have rented a car). We may return to the place we were, but we may just dive into to another area.
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