The Noble Breed

Want to ride horses in Turkey? Here's a reliable horse ranch, The Akhal-Teke Horse Center, owned by my friend, Erchian's family. I love the virtual tour on this website.

These Turkish horses are also famous in America. They come in many stunning colors.

The Akhal-Teke Association of American site describes their temperament:

The Akhal-Teke horses are vigorous, excitable, and restless. Thousands of years of selective breeding have left their mark not only on their physical appearance and efficiency, but also on their behavior. These horses are not only sensible but also very sensitive; they are even able to respond to mental suggestions of humans. Their intelligence is not comparable to any other breed. They not only need a sensitive rider, but a human being who can share their feelings when they gallop over vast areas just for the joy of movement. Due to the way in which they were raised and bred they are essentially one-master horses and bonding with a human owner is in their blood. Some Tekes may be difficult when ridden by strangers. With them you cannot achieve obedience by shouting or punishment; a glance, a small gesture, or a soft-spoken word are sufficient. A punishment not understood by the horse can cause them to be in a defensive mood for weeks. They are horses with character, outspoken individuals. Says Sue Waldock, President of the Akhal-Teke Association of GB: “They respond best to daily love and attention, a bit like a dog. If you ignore a dog it will misbehave too.” They are not suited to nervous or irritable humans. They are not suited to the limitations of modern stables, which kill their spirit. They are horses belonging to wide open spaces.

One Hundred Per Cent

Anxious. I am off this week to San Francisco to our conference, which has over 1000 participants. It will be a week of long days, and interesting work. I look forward to seeing old clients and meeting new ones. It’s also a chance to catch up with colleagues, since we are a virtual organization.

But what’s on my mind most is this trip to Turkey. I suppose it’s the lure of an adventure; a little free time, a little bit of the exhilaration of uncertainty and spontaneity.

Of course, given this economy, it’s an adventure whose budget could get spent on house payments or groceries. These are the times that I yearn to be unencumbered by houses and jobs and commitments to even the best of causes. I crave the wide open days of my time in Nepal.

But of course, that’s not what I’ll choose. Because on a more careful analysis, I’d choose the encumbrances I have, and I have chosen them, over and over, and my word is good on all that, one hundred per cent.

Always has been.

But this does not preclude a trip to Turkey, either. The economy does not. People have said, "You could lose your house if you do that." They might be right. When was the last time I was tethered to a house? When was the last time I didn't have a place to live that's better than most of the shelter that most people have?

I like the idea of a break, even not quite knowing what the break might look like.

The Relevant Questions

When I was considering my first expedition to the Everest region in Nepal in 1979, I made a list of questions to answer before deciding to go. It went something like this:

• Can I get in good enough physical shape to enjoy it?
• Can I save enough money to make it responsible?
• Can I get time away from other commitments?
• Is it a reasonable risk?
• Is this the right time?
• Are these the right people?
  
• Is there anything else I'd rather be doing with my time, energy and money?

Basically, I am considering the same questions for this trip. My life is full. I don't in any way feel lacking for entertainment. I enjoy my work and my involvement in Buddhism and the community of practitioners.

But I have loved a good adventure for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, people used to drop off their used National Geographic magazines at the local library. I'd carry an armload to my home, where I cut out the photos and pinned them to the walls in my room.

I always felt I would see those places and those people. It seemed they were mostly like me, bound by fate to live in out-of-the-way localities, yet full of life and an interest in the world. I wanted to meet them. I wanted to hear their stories. I still do. When I lived in Nepal and people came to visit, they'd ask, "What have you been doing this year?" and I'd reply, "Walking around." Sometimes I'd walk for weeks, from village to village, without a map or a destination in mind. It was never a disappointment. Never once.

And now, for some reason I can't quite fathom, Turkey is calling. Until now, it's a word I associated only with towels, coffee and Turkish Delight. Who knows how these seeds get planted? I can trace it back to some logical events, but it seems incomplete, as most explanations do.

I think if I go, I won't know why I went till I get there.

Lingo

What is the most valuable phrase when learning to speak a new language? In learning to speak Nepalese, it seemed to me to be "How do you say (insert the word) in Nepalese?" "What is that?" was a close second. And right behind that was, "Could you repeat that, more slowly?"

In Turkish, "Could you please repeat that," is "Luften, tekrarlar misiniz." OK. And "I don't understand" is, "Anlamiyorum." That'll come in handy.

Oh yes, and "Pardon," is "Anlamadim." I wonder if that's the "pardon" of "excuse me," or the "pardon" of "I didn't understand"--or didn't hear. Or maybe I have it all wrong and it's the "pardon" of "I have committed an offense and hope you will not throw me in jail." Yikes!

I'll make some flash cards tonight and read them on the plane and while waiting in line and working this week. And if I am lucky, I'll find someone who wants to practice a few phrases.

And last, but not least... the word for Turkish coffee, "Turk kahvesi" unless it has cardamon, in which case it appears to be 'old fashioned coffee,' and is called mirra (muhr-ra). Yum.

Jelabies, Çelebis - Sweet

When I lived in Nepal, I studied thangka painting for some time. After class, I'd walk to the bazaar with some of the other thangka painters and we'd have tea and a snack. I usually had plain, black tea and Jelabis (pronounced "che-lay-bees").

Jelabies are small, saffron coloured pastries drizzled from a pastry tube, cooked in ghee and soaked in sugar syrup. Sound sweet? They are!

I rarely ate desserts the years I lived in Nepal, but I will never forget visits to the tea stalls, sharing a plate of Jelabies with my painter friends. Honey bees swarmed the dessert cases and landed in droves. They walked drunkenly on giant mounds of Jelabies, warmed by the late morning sun shining through the glass on the dessert case.

Out in the street in front of the sweet shop, young boys stood and stirred huge vats of milk tea. From time to time they'd fill a glass with tea and pour it in a magical arc from that glass to another, aerating the tea, making it thick and frothy.

Jelabies were my favorite sweet, all those years. Now I am thinking to follow a route created by a man named Çelebis.

...Seems delicious, seems sweet.

Who in the World is Evliya Çelebi?

Til now, I'd never heard of Evliya Çelebi, the son of the imperial goldsmith, Dervis Mehmed Zilli, in Turkey.

According to Wikipedia, Evilya was born in 1611, in Istanbul, as the son of a jeweler of the Ottoman court.

He seems to have been a Sufi. Evilya loved to travel and he loved to write. In 1640, he traveled from Istanbul and logged notes about the architecture, culture and people he encountered in 10 robust volumes called the Seyahatname (Book of Travels).

Separated by almost 400 years, Evilya and I still manage to have a few things in common. He was most likely a Sufi and I am a student of the Vajrayana, a mystical sect of Buddhism. He liked to write--or at least he wrote--and I do, too. He liked to go places, and I can't think of a better way to spend the day than wandering around some remote and dusty corner of the earth.

Of course we are also probably quite different. I am a woman, an American. I was born into the working class, not nobility, and my father was a logger, not a jeweler. I've been on a horse more than once, but I'd hardly call myself a rider.

I've never been to Turkey, but I lived in Nepal for a few years. I wonder if Evliya loved tea as much as I do--if he loved to sleep under the stars and build a fire by a river and listen to the wind as it crosses the hills.

I wonder who he was, really, just like I wonder who I am. Maybe in Turkey, I could meet us both.

The Document

Today I received a document about The Great Anatolian Ride, a long-distance riding project with a cultural mission to identify something the document said would be called The Evliya Çelebi Way. Its purpose, the document said, is to be "an international project of historical re-enactment and cultural re-connection that will establish a Cultural Route through Western Anatolia."

The writer continued:

The Evliya Çelebi Way is primarily an equestrian route designed to generate interest in Turkey’s vanishing horse culture, thereby reconnecting Turkish people today with their heritage. Combining the romance of horseback travel in remote but stunning landscapes with rediscovery of Turkey’s historical past, it must appeal to all who are concerned to preserve Turkey’s heritage through sustainable tourism.

The Evliya Çelebi Way (EÇW) will be realised in 2 phases:
·Phase I: the Evliya Çelebi Ride (EÇR) a long-distance horseback ride along the route for the purpose of navigating it and gaining familiarity with local conditions
·Phase II: the establishment of the EÇW on the basis of the experience gained on the EÇR


The Evliya Çelebi Way: the Concept
The EÇW will be a marked route winding its way through open countryside amidst the burgeoning population centres of western Turkey. It will be an invitation both to local people to escape the town and gain a wider appreciation of the region in which they live, and also to visitors from further afield. It passes through countryside that seems familiar, yet is visited only by the few who choose to venture away from the main thoroughfares. The EÇW offers access to magnificent landscapes of towering mountains, rich agricultural valleys and hillsides, forests, marshes and little-known villages. These are ideal conditions for short or long treks, on horseback or on foot.

The establishment of the EÇW will:
·encourage preservation of the region’s natural and historical landscapes and unique cultural environment
·promote economic prosperity through sustainable tourism
·act as a catalyst for local development projects in the impoverished countryside
·provide an educational and recreational resource for local young people
·promote knowledge about vanishing indigenous horse breeds and equestrian traditions, and raise awareness about the value of their preservation
·foster a sense of history by means of projects to record the stories of the villagers and townsfolk whose lives have depended on horses, and who continue to keep them

Somebody's Big Idea

The idea came over a cup of coffee with a friend.

I had browsed through books in the Turkish coffee shop and seen photos. I liked everything about them. As usual, the pictures of the countryside felt more inviting than the cities, and the mountains were more magnetizing than the sea. The shop owner's charming wife had suggested I plan a trip to Turkey, and I liked the idea. I wasn't sure how I'd come up with the money--but good ideas have a way of funding themselves.

Then on another morning, I talked with the shop owner about his home country and I began to get a feel for it. I'd like to walk, I said. I'd like to be away from the cities. I'd like to spend time with ordinary people, doing ordinary things. I needed a break and I knew it. I felt the tug of a good idea.

The Turkish Coffee Reading

I wandered into Ottoman Klasik for my mid-morning cup of coffee one day in October, 2008, and met Genevieve, a woman slightly older than I, who had come to read someone's fortune in their Turkish coffee grounds.

Luckily for me, her appointment was actually later in the day, so she offered to read mine, instead.

I drank my coffee, turned the cup upside down on the plate and listened while Genevieve explained how she'd learned to divine the future in a demitasse.

I am not someone who really puts much stock in that sort of thing, usually, but it was a pleasant way to pass some time before getting down to more serious work in the day--and any excuse to sit among ceramics, kilims, and Turkish music works for me!

Turning the cup round a few times, Genevieve told me that in 6-8 months I'd have an opportunity to take a trip abroad. She said if I was not ready, to feel free to postpone it a bit. She recommended that I get some Middle Eastern music CDs to prepare myself.

She said I would receive a letter from someone in 6-7 months asking me about horses, and that I should by all means reply. She said they would be seeking my advice and that I could help them in some way.

She also said I'd have a chance to have turtle soup, served by a young woman with dark hair. And that I should try it. I winced. I love turtles--but in soup?

She said it was possible that I would also travel to India in September or so, or at least that I should plan to do that, if possible, and that it was alright to ask for a favor while I was there. I do go to India every few years in the fall, so this did not seem like such a long shot.

And among a few other odds and ends, she told me that someone would offer me a puppy, but that I should be crystal clear that I would take it only for a short duration. I made a notes and we parted. I have a dog. One is enough.