Ferry to Greece

On the morning of September 9th, we woke up in Turkey with no solid plan but a vague idea that we should probably ferry to a Greek island. I don't know if y'all have ever tried to navigate the Greek ferry system, but there are approximately 200 companies, each with their own website. These websites are fancy and supposedly allow you to make reservations online, but are in no way synced up and often directly contradict each other. After several weeks of trying to plan our path from Benin, we decided to just, you know, wing it.

 

 

So Sunday the 9th. We wake up at 7, and are on the first ferry to the nearby Greek island Chios by 9. Arriving there, we expect to find a ferry going to another island around noon, from which we can get to our final goal island. What actually happened:

• Get to Chios, ask nearby people to help us buy tickets to Samos. Quickly ascertain that the next ferry leaving to a Greek island departs on Wednesday evening, and the next one going to an island we actually want to go to leaves Friday. Problem.
• Discover that there is a ferry to Athens, which is far away but a hub for ferry transport, leaving in 20 minutes. Determine that we should be on that ferry.
• Find ticket office. Learn that tickets can only be bought in cash.
• Sprint to nearest bank, where we learn that they don't exchange dollars on Sundays.
• Sprint to ATM, get money, buy tickets from now adorably dramatic ticket lady.
• Grab bags, run to ferry. Stash bags in luggage storage area. Proceed to marvel at luxurious ferry, which is essentially a cruise ship (Café! Wine and snacks bar! Terrace! Wifi!).
• Spend 3 euros for Internet, research ferry schedules from Athens, hostels, and shuttles. Within 90 minutes Bridget has a plan and reservations at an amazingly cheap hostel in Santorini.
• Take naps.
• Switch ferries, and this time we know to dibs a couch before wandering around. Spend evening relaxing and listening to music.
• Arrive in Santorini at 1am, are met at the port by a shuttle that takes us to the hostel, which is absolutely perfect. Congratulate selves again on being, all told, pretty awesome at making things up as we go along. Thank you, Africa.

Izmir and Ephesus

If Istanbul is the New York of Turkey, Izmir is the LA. A couple hours south of Istanbul by bus and ferry, Izmir is the second largest city in the country. It's on the coast, very relaxed, very pretty, and very wealthy. We stayed with another excellent CouchSurfing host, Baris, who not only picked us up from the bus station but also took us on a walking tour of the city center that first night, followed by an excellent dinner and drinks on the beach.


The following day we went to Ephesus, an ancient city full of ruins 45 minutes away by bus. You know the book in the Bible Ephesians? Written to the people of Ephesus.* The ruins were incredible (as was the power of the sun), the history attached complicated and cultural and hard to believe. I remember learning about the Greeks and Romans in third grade, and comparing their art styles and values in high school (cheat sheet: the Greeks wanted perfection, the Romans to be impressive). It was somehow surreal to be standing in front of marble that I'd read about in textbooks, only vaguely connecting it to something that existed in real life. Says something about the staying power of a civilization, huh? I imagine Athens will be a similar experience.


Anyway. In Ephesus we also visited Virgin Mary's last house (her retirement home, we decided) and the Temple of Artemis, one of the seven ancient wonders of the world. A short bus ride back to Izmir, and we got ready to go out to dinner.


Baris took us to a restaurant in nearby Cesme that had tables on the beach. Clarification: we sat at a table that was maybe 10 feet from the lapping waves of the Aegean sea. Over tapas-style dishes of Turkish food -- spicy eggplant with yogurt, fresh calamari, tomato and cucumber salad, cheese with fresh melon -- we talked about our travel plans and told stories of our adventures thus far, and Baris told us the history and stories of Turkey's number one national hero, Ataturk. The man knows his history: I doubt even Turkish textbooks could have given us a clearer picture of the man who created the republic.


The rest of the night was equally amazing: fresh pear cocktails at an adorable winding-streeted town, then out dancing at the coolest bar any of us will ever visit. And with that, our trip through Turkey was (very sadly) over. Now, on to Greece!


*Interestingly, the people of Ephesus had been worshipping various goddesses -- Hittite, Greek, Roman -- for centuries before that, and though they converted mostly to Christianity, the locals still seem to revere the Virgin Mary in a way that probably would have made my Baptist grandmother fairly uncomfortable.

View from the bus to Izmir.

At the Virgin Mary's house. People write prayers and hopes on everything
from receipts for wedding rings to dirty paper napkins and tie them here.

In front of the giant golden statue of the Virgin Mary.

Ruins in Ephesus.  This one was redone from fragments
by modernist artists, but it was the only one, I think.

The column behind us (in the background) looks like a
muppet.  Vicky and I did impressions.



The ampitheater -- you can stand at the bottom and talk in a normal
voice, and the people at the top can hear you clearly. 
The ancients were geniuses at acoustics.



The Wonders of Transportation: Bus to Izmir

In Benin, a standard bus ride involves sweltering heat, loud music in Yoruba, at least one hour-long breakdown, a shouting vendor selling homemade "medicines" to cure headaches, heart disease, malaria, and male impotence, and at least one woman who thought it'd be a good idea to store all of her live chickens under her seat in a zippable bag. This is apparently not the case in Turkey.


On the bus from Istanbul to Izmir ($28ish, 8 hours) there are stewards, and they wear bow ties. There are -- get this -- SNACKS. Plural. A midmorning coffee/juice break with pretzels. We were so delighted that we couldn't stop giggling, and even the steward started chuckling at our excitement. Later someone came by handing out pink cups...full of cherry-vanilla frozen yogurt. And there were too many, so we got two! What is this magical place??

A Quick Note on CouchSurfing.com

First, a definition: CouchSurfing is a website dedicated to helping people travel by connecting them to people who live where they want to go. To "couchsurf" is to borrow someone's extra couch, spare room, or a spot on the floor while you're in the city, thus saving yourself the cost of a hotel or hostel and making a new friend in the process.


If the average experience is even half as nice as our stay at Kayhan and Emrah's in Istanbul, I'm 100% sold. Our hosts were some of the sweetest, most helpful people I've ever met, helping us plan our days and navigate the city, picking us up in the center of Istanbul so we didn't have to take a bus, taking us to an open-air coffeeshop on our last night, and even driving us all the way out to the bus station to make sure we could get tickets to Izmir. When none of our American credit cards went through at the station (don't worry parents, it was just a company thing), he pulled out his card, paid for our tickets and told us to send him the money the next day. That is crazy.


So to summarize, CouchSurfing got us in touch with probably the best, most helpful person in all of Istanbul, and if that's in any way a normal CS experience, I'll be surfing for a long time to come.

Istanbul

Arriving in the Istanbul airport, we learned many things. First, people in airports dress strangely: we saw all manner of weird spangled peep-toe boots, oddly colored hairdos, and in one case, a floor-length burnt orange velvet dress. Second, we learned that Istanbul is HUGE and that the people there don't necessarily speak any of the languages we speak. Third, we learned that one of our bags was lost.

Bridget filled out all of the paperwork and we left, but unfortunately by that time our awesome CouchSurfing host Kayhan had had to leave for work, so we dragged all of our remaining bags onto the metro (functioning public transport!) and ended up in a park near the Hagia Sophia. People-watching is amazing, and so were the ice cream cones we found for one Turkish lira ($0.50) each.

The rest of that day was divided between Times When We Were Running Around (mostly getting lost while trying to find Kayhan's car) and Times when We Were Falling Asleep in Public Places. Turns out very little sleep for two nights in a row makes traveling a challenge. When we finally got to Kayhan's house, we slept for a very long time, and the following day, he drove us back to the airport to get our long lost bag.
The next two days were a perfect blend of busy, relaxed, and adventurous (probably because I have two really excellent travel buddies). We saw the Topkapi Palace, the Hagia Sophia, and the Blue Mosque, all of which are stunning and full of really fascinating history (Ottomans! Revolutions! Religions!). Turkish coffee in tiny cups and sesame pastries perked us up after hours of walking. Our feet will take a while to forgive us.


Later, we went to the Grand Bazaar and tried our hands at bargaining in a language other than FrenchGunFon. Vicky got a gorgeous brown leather jacket, I bought a silver pendant necklace, and Bridget found some beautiful earrings and a scarf. We told ourselves that they were rewards for surviving Africa, but I think we really just wanted to buy pretty things. Wrapping up our shopping spree, we wandered through Istanbul's Spice Bazaar, sampling Turkish delight, fresh mozzarella (string cheese style! Bridget has never been so excited), and all sorts of olives from giant tubs. Nearby, piles of yellow saffron, black and red peppercorns, dark orange chili powder and green pods of star anise waited for the culinarily inclined to walk by.


On our last night, our hosts picked us up from the Taksim area and took us to a little spot overlooking the whole city. There were tables and chairs sitting on a sidewalk on the side of a hill, and as we sipped Turkish coffees and talked about Africa, America, Turkey and life, the city of Istanbul stood winking and shimmering at our feet.

Part of the city of Istanbul from the Bosphorus

From Topkapi Palace overlook

In one of the greater successes in my life, I successfully get this
random French man to take a Beninese-style photo with me.

I can't figure out how to rotate this, but I love this photo.  Moral of the story: always give your camera to Bridget.

Woman with her kids in a room in Topkapi Palace.  The tilework throughout
the palace is incredible.

The Hagia Sophia (or the Aya Sofya)

This looks boring on film, but trust me, this building is jaw-droppingly impressive.

The Blue Mosque

Inside the Blue Mosque... again, way cooler in real life.

Incredible tiled ceiling.  The centerpiece there is a verse from the Qu'ran in Arabic.

Bridget in a cool cafe we found.

My souvenir, a silver pendant necklace.

On our way out.

Return to Ghana

On our first day after Peace Corps (though it didn't feel like it yet), we went to Accra, Ghana. It's been just under a year since we were last there, so when we met up with our friends Jim (who was in the same residential college with me all four years at Rice) and Bob. Collectively they form JimBob, one of the quirkiest and most adored duos in Peace Corps Ghana.

Anyway, so we got to Accra, which is kind of like the NewYork of West Africa -- cosmopolitan, pretty well developed, and full of anything you might want to eat. They even have (very very expensive) sushi. Crazy!

We didn't eat said sushi, but we did indulge in burgers and margaritas, and the next night we got Ghanaian fusion food, which was surprising and delicious. I got Ghanaian-style pork, but it was wrapped up in little dumplings and came with dipping sauce. Delicious!

A couple good moments from the trip to Ghana:

• Got. Real. Coffee. With a whole wheat croissant!
• Caught up with Jim about our Rice news. Yes, friend there, you have been discussed.
• "You know, last time we were in Ghana, I don't think we went running at all. Oh, except the marathon, I guess." - Vicky
• JimBob's version of cheers: Nsrahe! ("Adventure!") Learned this while sitting at an outdoor bar with a mix of PCVs from Ghana and Benin.
• JimBob guides us around Accra mostly successfully. We get lost once for an hour trying to find Nkrume's mausoleum, then find it right as we were about to give up.
• Found ourselves talking about people ("Look at her hair! I want it!" and "Damn girl, look at those shoes, get it!") in English, which is what we do in Benin. From the looks we got, we're going to have to switch secret languages. Oops.
• Went to a really cool organization called Global Mamas, which is a group of women who make bags, clothes, etc out of the traditional Ghanaian batik fabric. I got a bag and an education -- if only Beninese couturieres could export their stuff like that... Check them out if you get a chance, their goods are in America, too!

  

After all of that, it was time to go. Getting on that plane to Turkey was SO exciting and so weird... It didn't seem real until the food arrived and with the first bite of real butter* I suddenly realized that Peace Corps is over for me. Like I'm not a volunteer anymore, and while thinking about sustainability and development is a good thing, it's not a requirement anymore. I won't be doing more projects. Got a little teary-eyed over butter, ultimately. But now, to Istanbul!

*True story

Jim meets us for breakfast -- real capuccino!

JimBob at breakfast on our last day in Accra.



Very posed photo at the Accra market.

 

Beninese faces.



Vicky and Bob, who is a very funny man.



Jones forever!

 
 

At the airport about to leave Africa for realz.  Excited for Istanbul!

On Peace Corps

(Written August 2012)

If you know anyone seriously considering joining the Peace Corps, tell them to do it.

I realize that I'm in my last month of service and that I'm therefore more than a little sentimental at this point. But I've been thinking lately (well, this morning, as I sit eating my spicy chickpeas and rice with the mamans in front of my house) how lucky I am to be here doing this, and how glad I am I took this chance.

Peace Corps hasn't been everything I thought it would be. I expected to be fluent in a local language, galvanizing an entire village towards gender equality and universal education, all while living in a mud hut and chopping down jungle snakes with my personal machete. My life is less grand and Hollywood-worthy than my Peace Corps fantasy, my achievements smaller, more specific, less likely to change a nation. And yet I'm incredibly proud of what I've done, what my fellow volunteers have done in our two years here. I'm even more amazed at what Peace Corps has done for me: two years and a month after arriving in Benin, I'm far more assertive, more realistic and determined in my goals. I can make a fool of myself in front of a group and join in laughing at the joke. I can give a speech, argue a point, and say no politely but firmly when necessary. Peace Corps, it turns out, gave me a backbone.

If you want to save the world, you shouldn't join the Peace Corps. If, on the other hand, you want to help out a small group of people while making yourself a better, stronger and wiser person, you should think about it. This isn't for everyone, and it's not easy. But given the choice I made two years ago, knowing what I know now about the experience, the challenges, the struggles and little successes, I'd absolutely, totally, 100% positive make the same choice again.

Visa Photos: Don't You Want to Travel With Us?



Our respective visa photos (Bridget, Lissa, Victoria).  Please note that
Bridget looks like she's a lost child, Vicky looks like she might be a serial
killer, and that my neck was deemed "too white" to photograph, hence the
scarf.  Want to be our friend?





COS Week

• ARGHHHHH.  COS week was kind of badly planned.  There were too many of us, plus half of the staff was gone (to be fair, some had emergencies), and the end result was that several of us ended up incredibly, incredibly stressed out.  After a day and a half of waiting and coming back and waiting and coming back, I burst into tears in front of a staff member, at which point they finally gave me a receipt to do what I needed to do: go to the cashier, give her 5,000 CFA, sign a paper, then have her hand me 5,000 CFA and sign another paper.  A day and a half, people.  Cheers for bureaucracy.
• Medical Surprise. Don't worry, it's not HIV. On Wednesday, I tested positive for tuberculosis, but don't freak out.  I don't have actual active tuberculosis, and I could cough directly into your lungs and you wouldn't catch it (wanna try?).  What it means is just that at some point during my service, someone with TB got too close and the germs got into my system, so my body started making the antibodies.  As long as my immune system isn't compromised, it shouldn't ever develop into active TB, and unless it becomes active, I can't transmit it.  Repeat: I AM NOT CONTAGIOUS. I did an x-ray to prove it.
  
  Now, the sucky part: we're going to redo the test in the States just to double check, but assuming it's the same (it will be), I'll have to do nine months of treatment.  The kicker: no alcohol.  That means no drinks for almost a year, probably starting at the very end of October.  You can now officially call me Sister Mary Melissa.
• But In The End... I finally, finally got my paperwork finished.  Guys, I am officially a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.  I did it!
  
  I'll probably blog a couple more times, because it turns out that blogging's kind of an addiction.  But just since I feel a sense of completion and closure right now, I want to say this: thank you so, so much to each and every one of you who have stayed with me and read along with my adventures in Benin.  I love hearing that people actually read this thing, and it's incredibly encouraging to know that there are so many of you keeping me company from thousands of miles away.  Thank you.

Edabo: Last Week in Daagbe (8.18-8.25)

• Ramadamadan. Went to a standard holiday fete (delicious food, beautiful new outfits for the family, dancing) at my host family in Porto-Novo's house. The twist was that we had all three generations of Peace Corps host sisters there: me from 2010, Claire from 2011, and now Suzanne from 2012, and that's not even counting our Beninese host sisters. Yay!
• Louise! I forgot to blog this earlier, but the girl I tutored all of this year just passed her second level national ex, meaning she can go on to high school! The exam is SO hard, and only 27% of students who took it passed in the entire region (in our school, that rate's much lower). I am so incredibly proud of her!
• CEG Fete! My school planned an adorable get-together to say goodbye, and after several replannings, it was held on Wednesday. There were speeches by the school admin in which they made me sound way more impressive than I actually am, a speech by the professors that quoted Charles Schultz/Snoopy (win!), a speech by me in terrible but enthusiastic French, beer, and fish sandwiches. And then presents! A pretty new boomba from my director and his wife, and then a shiny white outfit from the profs together that is easily the most beautiful, elaborately embroidered thing I own currently. Mainly, though, it was just really touching to see all the profs that were there to say goodbye, good luck, and that they'd liked getting to know me.
• Friend Fete! Got together with my really close friends (the ones who threw the party for Mandee) in Porto-Novo for one last shindig. We got meme tissu, Maman Jumeaux made delicious ignam pilee (pounded yams) with spicy peanut sauce AND riz au gras, we ate a ton, drank a ton, and danced til we were all sweating. It was wonderful and fun, and even though I had to say goodbye to some of my favorite kids on the planet, I managed to not cry* until I was on a zem on my way home. I love my people.
• That One Day I Was Santa. On my last full day in village, I went on a gift-giving spree, which really just means that I gave away bags of stuff I cleaned out of my house. Milk powder! Pens! Half-full toiletries! I felt like Oprah. People, sometimes ones I didn't even really know well, also stopped by my house to say goodbye and thank you, which was really touching. It's cool to see that people care, I guess, because I care about them too.
  
  Some close friends brought presents, like my friend Elise, who made me a last in-village dinner of vrai-vrai Beninese food: fresh pate and delicious sauce legume. My other really good friend GbloGblo lives in a mud house with her five kids and has no money to spend. She and her daughter Gerardine spent a couple of hours and the last couple of francs they had to make me bottles of roasted peanuts and corn to take home with me. "Tell your mom and dad that this is what we like to eat in Benin. And tell them hello from us, and that we hope they're well." I didn't cry, but just barely.
• Edabo. I left Daagbe yesterday (Saturday the 25th), and this time, I did cry.  My friends were all around me wishing me goodbye and good luck, and the tears started rolling as I walked toward the taxi.  Not easy to leave, and I'll miss my village a lot, but by now the crying's done and I'm gearing up for this week: COS paperwork and appointments galore before we head out on our grand adventure September first.  Wish me luck with all of these signatures and documents!

*Crying by adults is not culturally appropriate. Only babies cry, period.