Are You Tough Enough?

A cloud of bilious orange smoke (from a military smoke bomb) signaled the start of the Nor Cal Tough Mudder on Saturday. It followed what seemed like a string of interminable disclaimers, announcements, and incantations. The testosterone level in that 50 square yard start area could have moved a mountain. The 300 or so entrants in that first flight (of 17) were starting a 12 plus mile experience which featured 24 obstacles while climbing up (and down) from Squaw Valley’s village to one of its peaks some 2,900 feet higher. Everyone who entered knew they were going to get muddy, jump into several snow lakes or pools of very cold, often muddy water, and feel at least fatigue for somewhere between a few to several hours. Why would they do this? It certainly wasn’t the offer for those who finished: a free Mullet (or Mohawk) haircut, a tattoo, a tee-shirt (and garish orange headband) and a pint of beer.

Tough Mudder started back east a couple of years ago. It was intended to be the hardest experience of its kind. Its definition isn’t meant to be a comparison of alternatives like ultra marathons like the Western States 100, the Trans Tahoe Swim, or even the fabled Ironman triathlon. What’s the difference? Mud, barbed wire, and sometimes sadistic “obstacles”. Such as what?  Read on.

Since formation, TM has gone viral, essentially by word of mouth and the Internet. (Forbes said TM is one of the 50 names you need to know in 2011). In 2011 there will be  a dozen such events around the world, mostly in the US. They are usually contested at altitude. In our case Squaw Valley starts at about 6,000 feet. Some have extreme weather, as recently seen in Southern California. In that event the temperature at the mountain peak was 10 degrees, with wind. Over 100 entrants were pulled for hypothermia. In each case, the course is “tested” on Saturday and Sunday. Note, if a contestant wants, he or she can enter both days for a discount. Even better, one can “double” the same day for no additional charge. (I am sure someone has or will do this). Part of the allure of this event is it is so informal. Race promoters (we will get to the math in a minute) are “loose” with details. Our event was billed at 11 miles, but we passed a marker for mile 12 before we got to the finish line. Tough Luck. Since this is an “experience”, it is not seen as a race. While top finishers are recognized, the goal for most others is to be able to yell the “F” word, as they cross the finish line. “FINISHED!”

The promoters of Tough Mudders seem hip, irreverent, quick to change. They may be riding a wave which may be more in control than them. While I don’t know any details, let’s “do the numbers”.

Revenue is largely the entrant’s fee, which probably averaged $125. (Early applicants get a cheaper rate.) That’s $875,000 for Squaw Valley, cha-ching. Add tickets purchased by spectators, a likely five digit fee paid by Squaw Valley (which probably saw $3mm of incremental revenue from meals, lodging, etc in the area), sale of event gear, and finally a nice cut of the inflated cost of photos sold. A gross revenue of $1-1.25 mm is probably reasonable for the weekend. Of course there are costs. One hundred temps working for a week to build and take down all the sites probably costs a hundred thousand. (Remember, there are some skilled trade’s men, who pull the average pay up). Insurance, equipment rental, materials would add another $100 -150,000. I assume the beer and Power Bars, etc. was comped for promotional consideration. Thus, net revenue sounds like $600-750,000 for the weekend. Yearly net revenue sounds like $7-10mm. Note, in their short history they have raised over $2mm for the Wounded Warrior Project.

I am betting as the popularity of TM grows, they will cut tougher and tougher deals with host locales. I won’t be surprised to see Nor Cal move next year, as it did this. Tough Luck Squaw Valley. In addition, the fields are growing each time they hold one. Last year there were 11 start groups, this year 17. Good Luck for TM. Note, a 20% increase in participants probably triggers 3% increase in costs. Good margin increase.

Getting back to the event Saturday, my adventuresome friend Rob Bond and I re-signed with his sons’ team Debbie Does Northern California. This year we were about half the size of our 15 person team last year. However, I bet that is not a trend, particularly since those Bond Boys each were top finishers! Way to go Chris & Jeff. And, of note, Zach Righellis flew from the Middle East to compete.

I anticipate some of you may be asking what is it like. Here are some impressions which stand out, and some thoughts on how I approached this event.

Tapering       I work out a lot. I like the release, and the challenge, although it is not as satisfying as the competition of sports. Lousy knees stopped my running, playing squash, and the like. Tough Luck. Getting ready for TM, I worked on upper body strength, essentially doubling such work for the 6 weeks before the event. On the Tuesday before the event, I started tapering. Each day I did less cardio-work, and more stretching. I wanted to be fresh and ready for a long day. Good concept, but I am generally not described as a calm person, so having all that unused energy is tricky. I got through this phase fine, although slept a bit less. At the starting line I was sure I had plenty "in the tank". I assumed the only reason I wouldn’t finish is an injury. I never rule out that happening.

That morning          I usually sleep well, 6-7 hours a night, sometimes 8. I generally feel refreshed when I get up, which is usually 4:30-5:30. (You got it, I don't see the 10PM news much.) I had a restless night’s sleep the night before, in part because we went to bed before some of you had eaten dinner. I had two vivid dreams, not related to the event, so I know I slept. Never really thought too much about the event. When I arose, I realized I like the quiet, dark space of early morning. While the registration line was big and chaotic, I was in my own small zone. The half hour before the event I was alone, despite being surrounded by people heading every which direction, officials rushing to finish one last thing, and the constant noise of people yelling to each other, exchanging pre-event greetings and good luck. Ready to go. Let’s see what happens…..

                                                            7:15 AM Checking In

When did it start? The first 100 yards of the course were very steep. Some ran, but most walked figuring there was a very long way to go. To me the event started about 5 minutes later when we climbed a short hill to meet Kiss the Mud. The pond of muddy water was 20 feet wide and probably twice as long. Walking through this would have been mildly uncomfortable, since you would get wet and probably get some sand in your shoes. TM amped this up. First, they made the water cold by adding ice. Second, they installed barbed wire with small, but painful, barbs about 18” above the water’s surface. Thus, you were forced to crawl through the water, essentially keeping you head slightly above water. However, it gets better.  You did this with 299 other people, so you could only go as fast as the people in front of you. If they stopped, you did. Too cold? Tough Luck. Cut or caught on barb wire. Tough Luck. When I emerged, I had sand and small pebbles in my shirt, on my arms & legs, and of course in my shoes. The scrapes on arms and legs had started. I am thankful the sun was out so we were dry in 10 minutes or so.

                                    

                                                            Kiss the Mud

What was the hardest obstacle?  I failed three obstacles, despite repeated tries on one. I believe that was called Everest. Think of a skate board half pipe with 10’ high sides. In TM’s case there is only one side wall, and that is vertical for the final 7 or 8 feet. Thus, the challenge is to run as fast as you can on a slippery, slopped plastic surface, then extend your arms so others on top of the wall can pull you up. I went 0-3 on this one, and have the black & blue marks on my shin to prove it. Tough Luck.

Number two was a structure which had 20 or so rows of a series of about 30 chin up bars, each about 18” apart. Think monkey bars. They started at about 8’ above the surface, but build to perhaps 10’, then trended back down at the end. Navigating just that would just take a lot of upper body strength. TM adds two features. First, the bars were greased and roll when gripped. Second, if you let go you fall into very cold water. As I was headed to yet another dunking, I was having second thoughts about the huge plate of pasta I had the night before. Tough Linguine.

However, number Uno in terms of difficulty was two obstacles, which I managed to do. In Walk the Plank you climbed a 15’ structure, and then jumped into a lake. What made that tough was the fact you knew the water was going to be very cold. It was. Next you swam 30 yards to get to get to the Underwater Tunnels. However, don’t underestimate the challenge of swimming when you can’t get your breath (because of the cold and altitude) and with heavy shoes on. When you get to the second phase you are required to swim under three sets of barrels. The last time I was breathing so hard was when I saw my first X rated movie.

As we were driving home, I asked Rob what was the toughest for him. He hated Boa Constrictor. Last year this was just a horizontal 30 foot length of pipe, through which I could barely fit my shoulders. Object is to crawl through, and not get freaked. (Yes, if the guy in front stops, you do to.) To add to the fun, this year the pipes were cut into the ground more. The first half dropped maybe 3 feet. Thus, at the end was, you guessed it cold, muddy water. Swim through that (barb wire above, so no walking), then realize you need to hold your breath to get to where there is enough clearance to breathe normally as you ascend. My knees and forearms ache thinking of the hard gravel which was all around.

Would you do it again?      Sure.

Did you lose weight?          Remember the huge plate of oil & garlic pasta Friday night? Did I mention the great burger Friday afternoon? I figure I burned about 2,500 calories in the event, which got me just about even from the above.

Any brilliant take aways?    I can easily walk a 4” wide beam for a fairly long distance. (I do this on curbs and the like all the time.) One of the last obstacles was Twinkle Toes. Walk about 50 feet on a 4” beam. Of course, if you fail, you go in deep, cold water. Tough Luck. My legs felt OK as I stood at the front of the beam. I thought I could do this. As I took my first step, my legs were shaking. I took about 30 very tentative steps which might have covered all of 10 feet.  Then I was in the water, once again. Thus, fatigue steals balance and judgment. The next morning I went out to play golf. Pared the first hole, and I thought this feels great. I soon realized my hands felt like cement. Shot a horrible 98, and was lucky to do that. Recovery time is a bit slower than when I was in my 30s. Finally, I was surprised driving home wasn’t uncomfortable. Sunday my body felt tired, but not too much pain. Monday it got a bit worse. So don’t assume you have paid the full price for something like this for a few days.

So what gives? Why did 7,000+ people pay $15-50 per hour to expose themselves to all this? I am not sure I know much about TM, but the following factors make sense to me:

• It all starts with that American entrepreneurial spirit. Two young guys came up with an idea, and probably invested less than $50,000 of their money (or that of friends). They have developed this concept effectively, and one can be sure they aren’t about to stop. According to the above math, they are now netting a few to several million dollars a year, in their development stage activity. Probably, they will never grow to the scale of General Motors. However, the US government will likely not be asked to bail them out. The US still develops great new ideas and products, even if we don’t make much anymore.
• Next, add a pinch of camaraderie. In the modern world all of us spin in our separate orbits. How many of you really know your neighbors? Last time you worked on a group project? TM goes to great lengths to explain it is an experience, not a race. Many of the obstacles require entrants to help one another. In addition, while you are on the course for hours, there is time to talk with others struggling up a hill or having finished some obstacle. Met Barbara and Molly, two 40ish moms who are members of Boot Camp in Las Vegas. They work out hard a few days a week. Tough Mammas.
• Finally, Americans are still pioneers. Always testing the limits, willing to press on into the unknown. No one could predict with 100% confidence they would finish. Too much stuff could happen. I have no idea what percentage of the entrants do finish but I am sure it is well less than 100%. The constant sound of the helicopter hovering over the course reminded me someone was being cautious. Along the way I watched a guy fall awkwardly from about 9 feet attempting to scale a wall, watched a young woman turn an ankle which immediately started to turn colors and swell, and  others grimacing with cramps, or other signals which cried No Mas. Tough Luck.

DAB, Rob, Chris and Jeff Bond at the Finish

If you are interested there is lots of information available. The Tough Mudder web site (www.toughmudder.com) is a good place to start. They have recorded over 1 million Facebook “likes”. Lots of photos from Nor Cal event. You can also see the team of 20 or so Gen Ys who run this machine. The king pin appears to be a guy named Will Dean, a Brit and Harvard MBA, who wanted something different. Another source is You Tube. Just type Nor Cal Tough Mudders and you can see the video of those who carried cameras.

See you there next year.

 

September 20, 2011

Wrap It Up

What a whirlwind tour. Not to complain, but we had much less “free time” than I had anticipated. So much to see, such a distant place, so foreign in many ways. We tried to cover the progress of civilization over more than 2000 years in three short weeks. Impossible. Equally tough is trying to gain an understanding of a country as full of conflicting pulls and tugs. What do I mean? Turkish businesses competing in the world economy, know that at 1:15 PM some employees will leave for prayers at the mosque. Streets which were built before Christ’s time, now are dealing with the fast, crazy Turkish drivers. The wonderful concept of merchandise without a posted price. All reflect some of what we saw.

Our trip was completely fulfilling (on one hand, and bewildering on the other) because of our guide, Hasan Yeniocak. He had all the history at his fingertips, and yet always had a great way of conveying the human side of any situation. His sense of Turkey is through, and was seen through a humorous, understanding eye. I see the fierce Turkish national pride which rallied a small band of loyalists to hold off wave after wave of Brits at Gallipoli nearly a century back. (Having the higher ground didn’t hurt.) I come away with a deep respect for our Turkish friends, their rich and diverse society, their deep historic roots, and their obvious love of life.

I offer some final impressions based on what I saw, heard, and read.  

Just the facts, Ma’am

·         Modern Turkey was formed in 1923 under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal, more commonly, Ataturk. It sounds like he was Washington (a famous General and first country leader) Lincoln (an Inspiring leader who made some very tough choices), and Roosevelt (who implemented many significant changes to society), all in one. His statues and pictures are everywhere, and his mausoleum in Ankara is “world class”. In its early days, Turkey was not a democracy, it couldn’t afford to be. The fun started in the 1950s when opposition parties were formed. Although there have been 4 military coups (1960, 1971, 1980, 1997), it sounds like democracy is alive and well here. The recent election sounded good, despite the Economist’s cautious article.

·         Turkey’s current leaders are pro free markets, although this is tricky in an economy which is changing so quickly and one which needs lots of infrastructure. The government seems to be privatizing industries, although not too quickly. Despite a population which is 99+% Muslim (and most of those are Sunni), Turks worry about keeping church and state separate. This is tricky as the state owns the land of most mosques. They also employ all Imams.

·         Turkey wants to be a good neighbor. However, this is asking a lot. With neighbors like Greece, Iraq, Iran, and Syria, it is a tough goal. Turkey is an associate member of the EU. However it doesn’t have full recognition. It sounds like Turkey needs to resolve some territorial issues with Greece before going further into the EU. It sounds like Turks are divided on whether full membership is a good idea. Given the goings on in Greece, going slow probably makes sense.

·         The country is about the size of Texas, yet has a population of about 78 million, more than 3 times Texas. About a quarter of all Turks live in one of their 5 large cities. That means there are huge sections of the country which are sparsely populated. The largest city is Istanbul (over 10 million), while the capital is Ankara.

·         Rob Bond has already determined its tallest peak is Mt. Ararat, where Noah’s arch is said to have landed. It is nearly 17,000 feet. Don’t expect us to go anytime soon.

·         Turkey’s south and west coastline is beautiful and they have important hubs for commerce (Black Sea, Straights of the Dardanelles, and the Bosphorus straights in Istanbul). That coastal land was a boon for early trade, but unfortunately made it easy for others to invade.

·         Turkey’s median age is just under 29, which is low for a country its size. Ours is a bit over 35 reflecting the bulge of baby boomers. Life expectancy is 72.5 years, 6 years shorter than ours. However, I am betting the statistics are wrong. That is because so many middle aged men seem to do nothing other than sit in plazas drinking tea, playing backgammon, or just watching the world go by.

·         While nearly 90% of the population is literate, regrettably women lag significantly. Spending on education is very low (137^th of countries in the world.) Another woefully underfunded area is the discovery, presentation and preservation of their rich historic sites. Most had lots of visitors, as the end of comfortable spring weather was approaching.

·         There is a president and Prime Minister in Turkey. The legislature is a unicameral body with 550 members. The largest three parties hold shares of 46.7%, 20.8%, and 14.3%. Thus, the AKP (the Justice and Development Party) can’t quite claim a majority, they are close.

·         The GDP of Turkey is not quite one trillion (US is $14 trillion) close to Mexico. Growth is very robust, and can be seen all around. Unfortunately, inflation is a continuing problem, with an index of about 9%. The central bank discount rate is 15%, thus money is expensive. While agriculture is about 30% of the employment (and 10% of GDP), industry and service sectors are growing quickly. There is an aggressive more by the government to privatize previously state run businesses, particularly in banking and transportation. Unemployment is over 12%.

·         Exports are a healthy 11% of GDP, about the same as the US. Apparel, foodstuffs, textiles, metals, and transportation equipment are the largest groups. Russia is the largest trading partner for Turkey.

·         A Turkish Lira is about 66 cents. Its value has lost about 20% (relative to the dollar) over the past 5 years.

·         Government spending is about 15% of GDP, while their debt is about 48% of GDP. You don’t want to know the numbers for the USA.

Show me what you got

·         Turkish shopkeepers love to bargain. Not doing so is almost insulting. However, as good as you may think you are, this is their home court. Small trinkets take on added meaning as you battle wits to save 66 cents. When the money becomes bigger, there is a bit more parity. Don’t be surprised to see a merchant include something extra after a long push to get to Fair Market Value. Alternatively, I was often offered tea before “the games began”. Some few stores had signs similar to “Bargaining is a game, we offer hassle free shopping”. Stuff under $50, you should expect to pay half of the initial offering price. It may be less, if you buy multiple units, a more expensive item than originally focused, note a small defect, etc.

·         Turkish men are to fashion as a balloon is to zoology. It just doesn’t compute based on our brief stay. What does compute is the fact that many young, affluent Turkish women adopt the styles of today. In the large cities and seaside resorts we saw lots of eye catching attire with hair to match. This is a stark contrast to the burka wearing religious conservatives, many of whom are from neighboring countries. (I observed the answer to what you may be thinking. They lift the veil slightly and discretely bring the utensil to their mouth when they eat.)

·         You will never see a richer offering of veggies. Eggplant is an incredibly versatile and tasty addition to any meal. Pilaf is also usually available, and beats Rice-a-Roni by a country mile. Get ready for a great variety of breads. You will have to work to not have lamb every day or so. Desserts were generally too sweet, and you can skip Turkish ice cream which is almost the consistency of taffy. To offset the above mentioned veggies, and an exception to the dessert comment, you NEED to try several of the Magnum Chocolate bars. My favorite was the double chocolate, but raspberry is not far behind. You will be astounded when you learn this is not ice cream.

·         There are about 30 million visitors to Turkey each year including in country travelers. I would guess tours are more important than in other more developed countries. They certainly negotiate low room prices than those posted in the rooms. No problem. However, be aware, hotels charge excessively for drinks and services. The $20 Margarita perhaps was the high water mark. Soft drinks usually cost $4-5, while across the street the small shop was happy to get 2 Lira, about $1.30. Meat, alcohol, and gas ($9-10/gallon) are expensive. I was told gold was a deal, as are carpets. But caveat emptor.

·         I failed in my one shopping mission. I love backgammon (ever notice?), and have an assortment of mid to poor quality boards, all well used. Some hold sentimental value because of their prior use. I planned to buy one on the trip, since this is (or is very close) to the game’s ground zero. Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar didn’t have any of note, even in the antique section. After weeks of seeing nothing of interest, I found a merchant in a busy Istanbul square. I was salivating after seeing the workmanship and design, but soon learned that they really were mother of pearl inlays, these were solid wood with intricate designs, etc. Starting prices were $2,000 and they went well up from there. The heartbreaker was each board was custom made for the buyer, and took a month.

OK, Well Would You Go Back?

            In a New York minute. Here is kind of my “to do” list.

·         I would definitely spend 3-5 days in Istanbul. The grand bazaar and spice markets are a must, even if you aren’t in the market for anything.  Ayasophia was spectacular, as was the close Museum of Turkish Treasure. The Blue Mosque is interesting outside, but shabby inside. Definitely cruise up the Bosphorus. The Roman Cisterns are beautiful and incredible engineering. Lighting is worth the trip alone, and the below ground setting is great, particularly on a hot day. Sleeper pick is the less visited Summer Palace. That sultan had it going including as 60x20 sq foot Turkish rug. Despite living in the 1860’s I saw many equally impressive features as seen in Versailles. Sorry, Topkapi Place is good, not great. Zuma was a great place for dinner next to the Bosphorus, but avoid like the plague the haughty (but great view) Topaz. Another sleeper is the hard to get to Chora Museum which is filled with early mosaics.

·         The gullet ride was very cool, but four days got a bit long. It was fun to see various vendors in small boats come up and offer, crepes, veggies, sweets, etc. It seems each place you dock there are the ruins of old cities.

·         Ephesus is quite interesting since you can see a large section of the city being excavated. Unfortunately, one ruin begins to blur into others.

·         Troy is a disappointing bust. Rich mutli-period cities are built one on top of another, but it is very poorly displayed. The model Trojan Horse was a joke, not even worthy of Disneyland.

·         Driving along the Turquoise Coast was spectacular, but assume it is going to take a couple of days. 

·         Cappadocia was magical, particularly the early morning balloon ride.

·         Deme was very interesting to me since we met St. Nicholas or Noel Baba, as called in Turkey. Rumi’s bastion in Konya was very special to Carol & me. It was hard not to feel the strong sense of religion there.

·         Antalya is like a fast growing coastal Florida city. True, Perge is close and interesting, but I could have skipped it.

·         Finally I leave you with a four word admonition. Get a Turkish Bath. Having had only one, I am not an expert on where to go, but they are available in almost any town. I can tell you my skin has never felt better than after that soothing 45 minutes of bliss. The sleep inducing massage which followed was over the top, and only matched state side by Andrea Bryck. When I rejoined to world I was trying to focus on just walking a relatively straight line. Limp towel now is a vivid memory.

As always the best fun is getting in touch with the home boys. Despite never saying one world of Turkish (shame on me), I was invited to play backgammon, talk with guys on the street or in restaurants, and yes, match wits with merchants of all types. They generally won. All were fun, optimistic, and engaging.

One final note. Carol & I have never taken a tour before. “Plan it, buy a guide book (Carol), go, and then get around” was our approach. Our travelling partners Bob & Sheryl Wong and we decided it might make sense to let someone else organize it all this time. Good choice. I believe the reasons are obvious:

·         You can’t fake Turkish, it isn’t a Romance language.

·         The distances between venues are often great. Nice to have a driver.

·         There is so much to understand, it is nice to be “spoon fed”, and have the ability to ask for more detail, if wanted (again, usually Carol).

Notes From The Underground (and above)

When I was going to Mexico often, I learned of the popularity of overly dramatic Mexican TV soap opera. Was poor Ximena going to find a way to pay for the mysterious operation so desperately needed by her mother knowing that she really wanted to use her limited savings to move to that nicer flat on the other side of town so her kids could get a better education? (She did. To the rescue came Senior Gomez who quietly took care of everything, but did that cost too much?) Move over TeleMex. I can report Turkish TV has many choices of heroines in similar pickles pressing on. And, of course, this is very early in the morning. I can only wonder of the offerings at prime time. The Turkish versions seem to have a bit more humor in them.

Cappadocia is in the middle of nowhere. However, it flourishes as one of Turkey’s favorite spots to visit. This stems from a few draws: the cave like churches and homes carved into its small hills, the ghost like profiles of eroded hills caused only by decades of natures’ firm hand on the soils varying levels of density, and the flourishing hot air balloon industry.

Our exploring these venues started at 4 AM yesterday, as we rose to get to the balloons about 40 minutes away. We arrived at a plateau and saw two flat balloons, connected to large rectangular cages. Getting the money straight was simple, as Sultan Air had the ubiquitous credit card readers at the ready. For US type prices (charged in Euros) we were going for an aerial tour of the valley. The owner/captain of this enterprise, Ishmael, is quite a character. He was wearing an aviator jacket and official looking sweater. This was earned, as he was: a) a former commercial pilot, b) teaches gliding, and most importantly to us c) had captained 5,000 hot air balloon trips. He used large fans to blow air into the balloons, periodically shooting jets of propane heated air which came in flames of 4 feet or so. Five burly guys had the job of stabilizing the “cage” which weighed half a ton. Soon we were making the awkward climb over the mid chest high edge. With a couple of long propane fire blasts, 20 guests were suddenly starting to float. First a foot or two off the ground, then keeping that elevation we seemed to rise as the plateau dropped off. Houston, we have lift off. It was very quiet, interrupted by the periodic blasts of hot air to make the balloon rise. We followed the winds, with some fine tuning by guide wires. I would guess we were moving a few miles an hour, in calm winds. It was so quiet. I was told our peak altitude was 4,000 feet, but most of the time I would say we were closer to 1,000 feet up. Ishmael’s skill was quickly demonstrated as we effortlessly sailed around peaks with their carved housing. The views were incredible, but it really got beautiful when the air was filled by others. Unfortunately, those other balloons will just be dots in our pictures because we were so spread out. I would guess there were at least 50 balloons up by the 5AM sunrise. Time once again for back of the envelope math. Each balloon carried 20 paying passengers, each of whom paid about $200. I admit the biscuits and hot drinks (powdered coffee?) offered before takeoff was nice, and we did get a personalized, printed certificate when we landed. However, that seems like strong cash flow to cover insurance, a jeep, and few other expenses. (Most days Ishmael takes his two balloons up once, some days twice. This is for 8 months a year or so). As he said as he executed a perfect soft landing at 6:30 or so, “I am done for the day”. Find a need and fill it. Life is good.

Back for breakfast, then a day of solid touring. Carved out churches and homes most nearly 800 years old, seemed small but well preserved. Some had rich wall treatments of brilliant colors. Interesting to imagine those days.

Lunch was in a small town which featured a beautiful restaurant / cultural museum. The proprietors were Turks from the big city who fell in love with Cappadocia. After repeated visits, they pulled the plug: quite their high tech jobs, bought two aging buildings, re-modeled, hired a cook, and now they have several thousand visitors a year. This small town had the usual assortment of trinket shops, a few working at their trade (barbers, quick food stands, pharmacies, and the like), and the clusters of “lazy old men”. I love these guys! Most sit in the shade to avoid the heat of the afternoon. The most effort they make is moving their knurly fingers through their rosary type worry beads, periodically making some emphatic point in what I am sure is guttural Turkish, and yes, sometimes calling for intercession before they roll the dice in backgammon. Had I not been in a group, I would still be on those streets hoping for just the right roll. After looking at many street games over these days, most times with the participants hardly noticing I was there, I was asked “Do you play?” I admitted my interest. My questioner was a man who had been to Madison, Wisconsin, where he had visited a friend many years ago. (I assumed it wasn’t Leslie Bond, but guessed this was after the Second World War.) Soon the never used checker board was opened to reveal those beautiful 24 points of a backgammon board. Plain wood pips, mismatched dice, and a faded patina, the result of many, many games. But what else is needed? I thought of my dear friend Ray Saatjian as I won the opening roll with 5/1. Let the games began. I remember thinking these guys are just waiting for me to make some bone head move, to demonstrate the new world’s lack of history with this game. Allah was kind to me, and I had built a significant lead by the time I was summoned “for the last time”. (Kind of like mom calling my brothers and me from the park to get home for dinner.) I will always appreciate their willingness to let me see the world for a few minutes from their eyes.

Remember Rumi? He was that crazy 12^th century mystic who had some incredible religious insights and lived with a small group of devoted followers. Our day ended with one of the trips most controversial experiences. Our bus pulled up to a large stone building, like the caravansary we saw as we were headed here. In their day merchants stopped here for rest, a meal, and probably a game or two of backgammon. We walked through a large courtyard, to enter a large, dark room. At its heart, there was a wooden floor perhaps 20 feet square. Surrounding that was bleacher type seating, which might accommodate a few hundred. Today’s guests were closer to 25. Solemnly, 11 men in dark floor length robes and non pointed cone head hats entered. Five sat on one side, and turned out to be the musicians. The other 6 were lead by one man and circled the stage, then lined up on another edge, and knelt. A long quiet pause, and then the brief call of a drum. Then a single voice chanted for 5 minutes. He had wonderful range and the ability to chat for long, breathless periods. Very haunting to me. The rest of the musicians joined with 2 flutes (one played by the Cantor, Rob), stringed instruments, and the drum. The other men then rose, and started their circling of the platform, periodically interrupted by slow bows to one another or to one spot, presumably where a leader sits when present. Gradually the walking counter clockwise morphed into spinning, first in place, then spinning while moving. Like the planets, other than the fact there was on unmoving sun. These were the whirling dervishes who sect started when Rumi found religious bliss in this movement. The conclusion of the ceremony was the gradual retracing of its progress. After 45 minutes, the square was empty, just as it had started.

God Bless Hasan, who had some prior contact with one of the participants, who consented to sit with us after the ceremony. He patiently answered our questions as we tried to better understand what we had seen. Yes, he had a job, he was a designer of some sort. This was a very important part of his life, but not his full time avocation. He thought there were 2,000 cells or so around the world, not all of which perform in public. (I bet one is in Berkeley.) I made the faux pas of asking what he experienced when he whirled. He explained that was very hard to answer, but subsequently explained that twice since 1986 (when he started) he experienced a fraction of one second sense that he was ready to meet God. I am sure Hasan got most of what he said, and I only got part of what Hasan said. However, I had an intense sense of what that might be like.

Was this religious or commercial? Do the musings of a mystic who live nearly 1,000 years ago make sense today? Did you really need to understand each word or movement to get the essence of this experience? Each of us considered these and other questions as we rode home.

A Turkish Bath

While I can’t remember a specific source, I certainly had an image of a Turkish Bath. Portly old men, draped only in carpet sized like sheets, sitting in an old marble cavern, sweating profusely in steam thick air. The room is filled with some foreign language, delivered in forceful bursts. The process continues as burly, unshaven guys, scrub their bodies.

That isn’t entirely wrong, but is not how I would describe the experience Bob Wong & I had yesterday. We figured it would be best to do this in the late afternoon. Good thought, since that was getting to the end of the day, but bad thought because that was when the thermometer was reaching its blazing peak.

We were greeted by an attractive young woman who explained our options, and almost understand what we said. We both opted for the full treatment with a therapeutic massage to follow. Buckle your seatbelts; things are going to get interesting.

After changing into a less than generous wrap, we sat in a staging area, as men and women either headed in or staggered out. Welcome to the unisex universe. We were then led into a pentagon, marble walled room, probably 600 square feet and 15 feet high. It felt light, well used, and clean. Around the walls were sinks of water. At the center was an enormous solid stone platform, probably 15 feet in diameter and 3 feet high. I remember noticing the large ruts in the floor used to channel water.

When we came in we joined two very old, very large men who were sitting and talking. Periodically they would scrub themselves, pour large bowls of water over themselves, or lather up. Not far from what I had imagined. Self administered Turkish bath.

We chatted for five minutes in what felt like a summer day in Atlanta. At least as John Houser has described it. (I wonder how far back the Braves are? Did I mention the world champion Giants are leading their division?) Certainly muggy, but not unbearable. Then a young man and woman entered, and motioned us to lay on the table. It was hot. Then came one of the most refreshing experiences I have ever had. Three or four huge dousing of gallons and gallons of water which was just the right temperature. I remember thinking I was in water even though I was on the table. Then came the rub. Using what looked like a coarse glove every inch of my body was scrubbed. I was so into this I didn’t try to look at the detritus, which I have been told is “yucky”. The table seemed to be getting hotter as we were motionless. Our chatting stopped.

I had no sense of time, but soon thereafter came the foam. Bob was adventuresome enough to watch, I was close to sleep. The attendant took some sort of soap and put it in a pillowcase. After spinning it around, the pillow case filled with foam. Then each quarter of your body was covered with these fine bubbles. I am not exaggerating when I say there was probably a 4-6” layer. Like a bubble bath when you put in too much gel. When she did my shoulders and neck, I had to move my head to breathe. More scrubbing. Did I mention the table was getting hotter? I now know what a pancake must feel like.

Another round of water cleansing, in a not too quick manner. It is a good thing we turned over to repeat the steps, as my front was getting very hot. It is also a good thing I didn’t have the deed to our house, as I was completely relaxed and felt like a limp rag, albeit a very limp rag.

When we were tapped it was time to get off the burner, which had become our space. Trying to be discrete we re-wrapped and walked back to the staging area. There were several sensations: hot, as if we had come out of a sauna or steam, very mellow, and glistening, very smooth skin. Even I could feel and see the difference.

The knock punch was ordering a massage to follow. Think of this as a “double”, like two venues of a triathlon of hedonism. It was tough, but someone had to do it.

I have had lots of massages, and this was a pretty good one. I say only pretty good, because I only remember about half of it. Sometime there after my masseuse tapped my shoulder and woke me up.

One final image. I remember my body felt oily, not surprisingly since the masseuse had used plenty of a sweet smelling liquid. I asked the business manager if we should shower, and she said “no”. These were natural oils. In about 10 minutes they had been fully absorbed in our bodies and our skin was soft, shinny, and dry.

I have tried some challenging things in my life. Sometimes I have succeeded. Part of that is knowing your limits. I know if Rob Bond had challenged me to do 5 pushups as I walked back to change, I would have failed.

Promises, Promises

Yes I am aware you were told one of the advantages of a blog is you can post pictures. I have sure seen such blogs, and they are cool. However, I have just spent 30 minutes downloading some images and then posting them. For some reason it takes decades, and often the images are not correctly oriented. Thus, for the time being, no photos.

I am also aware I have not asked a question yet. Nothing good has come to mind. When the inspiration hits you will be the first to know.

Bob Wong and I are off to the Turkish Bath. Watch out, you may not rtecognize us when we return.

A Catch Up Day

Letter 5

(Monday) our group left the gulets, which had been our home on the water for three days. (In olden days, Turks used smaller gulets to catch fish. Images of those are easily available on line). During that time we cruised the Turquoise Coast, the south west coast of Turkey. Sometimes we were in the Aegean, other times the Mediterrean. This coast is bad news for all husbands, since it set a hard standard to follow. This is what Mark Anthony gave Cleopatra as a wedding gift. Fortunately for me, Carol didn’t know about this when I gave her a Cracker Jack ring on our wedding day, 44 years ago. Our ships were 85 feet long, 21 feet wide (midway) and slept a dozen comfortably. However, it is a different statement that we slept comfortably. Turkey has been having a heat spell in the south, where it is often very hot. This is typical for the year, and our tour is one of the last for the season. One day was over 100 F. The heat has been intense, and is compounded by the crowds who are doing what we are.

On the gullet after one lousy night sleep, Carol & I decided to venture up on the deck. There were found a sleeping area under the sail. Small pads had been laid out. Calm breezes kept us cool, and as always it is great to go to sleep looking at the stars. Each day we would sail, or more often power, to the nest hike site. We would hike for a half hour to two hours to find the remains of a city, usually in the hills. It remains incredible to me to see places where people were living 2000 years ago. The roofs, which I assume were wood, are all gone. However, walls of many buildings which may have been made from rock, stucco, plaster, or whatever remain. This is after hundreds of years of earthquakes, storms, high winds, and who knows what else. In addition, most cities, particularly Myra had huge amphitheaters. In that case it seated 15,000. I don’t know how many people called that Myra home then, but it reminded me of Permian Texas, whose high school football stadium holds more than the population of the town (Read Friday Night Lights, if you haven’t already). Myra is also the site of Lycian tombs. Here and at Dalyan River, we saw tombs carved into mountains. The reason they were built there was to protect them from looting. Unfortunately, greed trumped this caution, and many sites have been robbed blind.

Down the road from Myra is Demre, whose claim to fame is the 12^th century church of St. Nicholas. Here is where we learned about international relations. It seems that in 1862 Russia’s Czar Nicholas I made major renovations to this church which was built 700 years before. We learned to strong link Russians feel for St. Nicholas, even though our kids all relate to him as our Santa. (We were told the red and white colors of Christmas were first shown in an ad for Coca Cola, where a large bearded man was shown with a bag of cokes). Turkish kids home Noel Baba will leave them something, just as a Christian bishop provided dowry money for impoverished girls. If you have any doubt Russians are doing well, forget it. BRIC (Brazil, Russia, India, and China) are growth areas of the world. At Myra, our guide said there were 85 Russian tour busses on a prior day. These buses seat 40 or more, so you do the math. Waves of these distinctive characters, complete with their loud voices, were in every nook and cranny of every site. My advice to Russian women, wear more clothing. The Lady Gaga look doesn’t work for everyone. I hate to generalize, but the men were insensitive slobs. There was a particular indoor set of columns, which I thought would make a great photo. Surprisingly, I wanted to have it without Russian families whose kids wore garish tee shirts which said dumb stuff. However, when one group was done, in would step another. Then they would look at the picture and either a) re-shoot, b) change the permutations of who was “in”, or c) stand directly in front admiring the results. I waited 10 minutes, and am still not sure if I got the shot I wanted.

I realize that I never told you much about Istanbul, Pergamum, Izmir, or Ephesus. Rather than doing a diary, I will use the rest of the time to share some impressions.

                                                                                                              

·         The Third Eye           Turks, Peruvians, and perhaps others share a common bond to a talisman of white, dark and light blue circles usually made of glass or plastic. These are usually 2-3 inches, roughly circular, and bright. This “eye” wards off evil spirits and may bring good luck. You can see these is cars, offices, and in every bazaar and shop. (Memo to the Turkish Minister of Tourism: get shopkeepers to display less, sell more. Create a sense of rarity, not over abundance.) This is not what I am talking about. Rather I am thinking of the ubiquitous digital camera. From the simplest point and shoot, to the monsters which take HD video, they are almost an appendage to many. There is not one square inch of our tour’s path which has not been photographed in the past 48 hours by us or others. If you doubt this comment, go to Google Images, and you will find a picture (or more) of just about anything other than the Texas Rangers celebrating the 2010 world championship. Often you will see groups focusing on something of interest. Rather than looking, I observe some who merely capture the image, and more on. Who am I to talk? I have taken over 600 images in about a week. Yes, I love the flexibility of digital images, despite their absence here. I will probably preen and assemble a slide show (bring your own pillow). I will almost certainly post them to Shutterfly or something similar. What’s the point? Look more, snap less.

·         The camp movie Topkapi, which we watched with the Wongs before leaving, was shot in part at Topkapi Place in Istanbul. Just like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, they were trying to steal something valuable. In this case it was a jeweled encrusted dagger. When you go to Topkapi today, you see display after display of jewel encrusted daggers, swords, and the like. How many jewel encrusted daggers do you need? Does it make sense to enter battle with a very valuable (and heavy) weapon? Do the rules of combat include the right to stop, if a jewel falls out of its setting?

·         The public sector. Turkey is lead by a pro-free market party, which controls but has opposition. When Turkey became independent in the 1920s, the government operated many businesses which are now private. That transition continues. However, the government remains strong in several areas. For example, all beaches in Turkey are controlled by the government. No private enterprise, like a hotel, can own them.

·         Food – This has not been a good trip for dieting. We have enjoyed a rich and diverse cuisine. Breakfast is usually fruit (dried apricots, figs, watermelon), and a great assortment of breads and pastries. I did not try the “fried bread with egg”, which sounds worse than French Toast. Lunch is not a skimpy meal. Pasta, kebobs, and plates of eggplant, beans, yoghurt, and the like. Dinners have been lots of fish with veggies, again the plates just keep coming. Snacking is mandatory. If you are ever here, you must try a Magnum Double Chocolate bar. This makes a Dove Bar taste like a popsicle. (For younger readers, they were frozen fruit water on a stick.) Coffee drinkers have seemed to like the thick and very strong Turkish Coffee. I tried the Turkish Delight. It isn’t. Halva tasted like sweet chalk to me. Our guide extolled the various biscuits which young kids like. These are sweet crackers, often filled or topped with chocolate, coconut or jam. After tasting several offerings, I understand why there is no international clamoring for Turkish wine. On the other hand Efes (the Turkish spelling of Ephesus) beer is a great pilsner type brew. Two thumbs way up for food.

·         Islam – I admit when I hear that word I often think of the few radical demons whose intent is the demise of the western world. That is not what we have seen or heard. Our guide, Hasan, has shared his incredibly developed view of the world. While he may not attend the mosque as often as others, he often sees the world from a religious viewpoint. I start by admitting I am no expert on Islam. However, one can’t miss several common features of life in Turkey.

o   Every village has a mosque, every town has a few, and every city has many. They are everywhere.

o   New mosques are often built where rich benefactors “suggest”. Thus, there is no zoning. You will sometimes see two or more mosques very close to one another.

o   Mosques are lead by Imams. They are hired and pay by the state. The buildings and land are generally owned by the state.

o   We were told if you ask Turks who they respect most in society they would answer, an Imam. This is in a country where perhaps only one in four regularly attend a service. Repeatedly, we have heard most Turks don’t want a religious government.

o   Unlike cathedrals and churches of the west, many of these buildings seem very mundane. Some of the old ones are huge. I have seen only one mosque without a minaret. Some of the larger ones have two or more. These narrow towers are perhaps a few feet in diameter and 30-50 feet tall. The original purpose of the minaret is to allow the Imam to call people to prayer five times a day. In days of old, the Imam climbed the stairs and shouted charts from the Koran, a calling to prayer. Times change. Now he can do call in the air conditioned comfort of his office, using a PA system. Who knows someday he may use Skype. One would have to be totally deaf to not hear this call, which occurs 5 times a day. This call lasts few minutes. What follows is a steady stream of men who first wash their feet and hands at stalls outside the mosque. They then walk to the front door, remove their shoes, and enter a large, often rectangular room. (I don’t believe women go to the mosque. Not sure about their spiritual life.) I am sure you have seen pictures of the offering of prayers, which seems to last about 10 minutes. With our driver I observed one such session and was moved by its solemnity and sense of serenity. Businessman, student, and merchant were all equals on the rug. There is a ritual of this service, but I am not sure I understand. Hopefully I will go again in Istanbul.

June 21

The ı's Have It

Friday June 18

Reader’s note: for the past two days our group has been cruising the Mediterrean and finding secluded coves to anchor. Our home has been one of two gullets. These are magnificent 80-90’ sailing boats, probably unrecognizable from their prior form. We have used the iron sail more often than not, which is an option previously not available. The days have been full of lounging, reading, and swimming in the crystal clear, topaz water. Brisk even in the hot sun, very refreshing. True, some took a hearty hike of some two hours, but by in large this has been time to chill. There are several consequences of this stage of the trip: more naps, expanding girth, and less writing. No contact with the outside world since there is no wi- fi. It has not been missed. Today I was to go back to a couple of prior events, starting with a tour Thursday morning.

·        Impulse – An unplanned action, an immediate response to a situation

·        Intuition – A sense of a situation or outcome, based loosely on prior experience

·        Instinct – A tendency to act in a certain way

If asked, I would define the above words in that manner.

Our Thursday started with a sumptuous breakfast spread at the hotel, including honey in the comb. Good thing we are going to the gullets, since these big breakfast are unsustainable.

A quick drive from Izmir brought us to a modern collection of buildings with red tile roofs. This was the location of a rug manufacturing facility. It seems the government, like those of so many other developing countries saw the problems incumbent with the migration of young rurals who moved to the big cities for a new life. More demands on already heavily used city infrastructure, a movement from “old” industries, etc. To stem that tide the government offered certain tax incentives for those who developed facilities for these industries. Two examples were leather working and rug making. Why didn’t we go to the leather facility? Our guide is a capitalist, responded to government tax credits and a perceived opportunity, and started the business 25 years ago.

For an interesting hour we learned a lot about Turkey and its rug business. We learned and observed the making of these fine rugs. We watched young women follow a computer generated pattern and translate that into rugs by double tying wool or silk strings to tightly drawn lengths of either silk, cotton or wool. That double knot is a simple looping of the strand, it takes no skill. However, what does take incredible ability is following a pattern you see, and translating that into the rug. Silk backing is only used with silk weave, while wool weave is used with either cotton or wool. Once a row is completed it is tamped down with a heavy weight and then cut with scissors (wool) or a small knife (silk) to produce a constant pile.

At the start of the process, we watched as workers teased silk strands from soaking cocoons, then merged to form lines of a half dozen strands. Then we went to the dye section where natural materials were used to make needed colors. For some reason silk uses only synthetic coloring, while wool is natural. It all was so logical and interesting.

We then walked into one of the 10 or so grand halls, which featured dozens of rolled rugs, comfortable benches around the perimeter, and our host/tour guide/pitch man John. The transformation of his role was incredible. What we watched and heard for the next 30 minutes lead each of us to conclude, John could not only sell ice to the Eskimos, he could also sell then sun tan lotion in the dead of winter.

Before the show started he explained about the Turkish custom of shopkeepers offering their customers coffee, tea or refreshments. He offered a wide range of choices, including raki. This anise tasting drink is the Turkish equivalent of Ouzo, Grappa, or jet fuel. He said it was 45% alcohol, but who’s counting?

He started by talking about what a bad reputation most rug sales people have, equating them to used car salesmen. He then talked about how little most people know about rugs, excluding our most sophisticated, like Shila. I remember clearly seeing the floor was clear. I also noted several guys standing around. As John rolled us into his grip, these guys unrolled the carpets. But that doesn’t begin to do the process justice. He would explain about one type of carpet or another, and then with a quick Turkish phrase, his assistants would simultaneously roll out examples, each ending exactly at the feet of the prey. Ron Popuil would be jealous with this drama.

First came course “native” rugs, which looked fine to me. These were explained to be only 20 knots per square inch. That seemed like a lot to me. Shapes were rough, edges were raged, I admit. I came to understand, this was the white bread.

I can only think of D Day as having more waves of whatever, than our class in rugs. Soon, the floor could not be seen, and we were only at the 200 knots per square inch level. I get it. I am not a good judge of art, but even I could see as the knot count went up so did the vividness of the pattern, the crispness of the edges, and even I figured out, the price.

I remember tuning back into the pitch when we were in the “getting fancier” phase. Somehow John had us convinced that rugs today would be like the Rembrandts of old. I didn’t ask did that mean we would die impoverished like so many gifted artists.

Inshallah. I can only wonder what would have happened if the show had not featured one particular carpet for display. When it was unrolled, it grabbed Carol’s well trained eye. She said she knew the colors would be perfect for our bare dining room. I admit I saw it too, and thought that was nice, but I was thinking of lunch in the shaded garden. But, I figured we wouldn’t want to hassle with the shipping, and all that. In addition, while they offered a money back guarantee, I doubted anyone really took them up on that.

The final silk carpet shown had a value of over $100,000. It was a tiny prayer rug. You could see this was a bazillion knots per inch. It was incredible, but so was the price. That was the first time price had been mentioned.

Each of us was offered the chance to meet with a specialist and explore our interests. If we were not buyers, no problem, please enjoy a free lunch. (I knew just as mom told my sister, sometimes a free meal can cost too much). Before I knew it two things happened: first, Carol said let’s look at one particular rug, second, Airo was there. His presence was just as abrupt, yet unnoticed as when a high school girl took me to a fundamental Christian’s youth rally, and I was offered a chance to be saved (I wasn’t).

In December, my good friend Jim Maguire and I were on the way to a lunch with Ray Saatjian. He was explaining how adamantly he resisted Christine’s recommendation to start raising turkeys on their farm. That farm is already known around the world for its cheese and poultry, and they both work very hard doing what was already done. Before he finished, I knew they are now offering turkeys. Sometime come by and see our new rug.