shoestring hiatus

Hi shoestringers!

Well, the captain of budget travel (that would be me, the one on a shoestring) is taking a temporary hiatus to ol' America to get some work visas. Having not one, but TWO jobs that didn't pay me over the summer has left the sheostring shorter than is desired. Stranded in Burma short, really, even though I am not stranded in Burma. However, if I didn't go home to earn some bread, and get some visas so I can earn more bread, well, stranded in Burma is exactly where I'd be!

So, my shoestring will be tested in Fargo. Here are my budget saving ideas:
1. Live with my best friend (Amy, I will iron all of your clothes and fold laundry--it's my favorite!)...and her daughter, and her cute dogs, and her new cat, oh, and her husband, who I plan on torturing slowly by my presence. Is she the best friend or what? Lots on her plate, and now...her bum of a friend. Cheers, Ames!
2. Rescue a bicycle from my parents garage and use it until it snows. That should save some gas money! And build up some leg muscles. And burn off calories from all of the ridiculous amounts of food I plan on eating upon my return...
3. Continue NOT shopping. I have purchased 1 shirt in 5 months. My clothes, as you can imagine, are...gross. :) I only had 9 pieces to my wardrobe, not counting my bather. Luckily, I have some stuff stored at the parents. Mom and dad, you rock! Oh, and thanks go to my fella here for giving me a new backpack and several t-shirts so I am not quite so smelly all the time. He rocks, too.
4. Work like a mad-woman. Come on, I've been a slacker for 6 months, I can totally do it!

So that's the scoop! When I have the next round of plans all made (basically it's continue where I left off, so Syria, here I come circa January, but I'll keep the plans limited until the shoestring isn't so short) I'll post details. Otherwise, I'll try to keep everyone abreast of exciting happenings...in North Dakota? Hey, burgers on the prairie sound pretty exciting to me right now.

Thanks for reading! I will post lots of pictures when I get to America. My brother has really fast internet. :)

Cultural Anthropology, Shoestring style

The world is a big place. There is so much to see, so much to do, how do we decide to become a part of the world instead of just looking at it? If we can put ourselves, literally, into someone else’s shoes, what would we find out about this great big world? What would we discover about ourselves? In these bizarre times of globalization and ever-changing political climates, isn’t it the most important thing to discover a little bit about the people and places that could change our lives, or whose lives we are trying to change? I have been thinking a lot about these questions, as I am trying to decide what I want out of my life, and what I want out of the world. If one person could set out to change her perspective, and to hopefully change the perspective of a few others, could that be the start of real change and understanding? As I look back on my time in Turkey, I am shocked at how my perspective has changed. I am even more shocked that it is all changed for the better.

I got myself into some pretty sticky situations in Turkey. A large part of that is due to not understanding who I was dealing with. Turkish tourism professionals are absolutely the best at their jobs. Befriending, offering advice, tea, sometimes dinner or breakfast, earning your trust just so they can swindle some extra money out of a tourist is the name of the game. Are there others out there, in other countries, I mean, who are like that? I am certain they exist. Are the sales people overly aggressive, shouting out “Japan!” or “Korea!!” or “American, right?” and then doing the exact same thing as the tourism professionals, all in an effort to overcharge “rich westerners?” Absolutely. Are their others out there like them in other countries? Having listened to many travelers’ stories of Egypt, Morocco, and India, I am going to answer absolutely to that question.

After getting out of the tourism business, and distancing myself from all the people and places associated with it, I started to see the real Turkey. There are so many lovely people, regular people with regular jobs, they are just not immediately on the surface. The same can be said for nature. All of the tourist places are beautiful, spectacular even, but the prices doubled this year to visit museums (which most archaeological sites are considered), and with Turkey continuing Westernization, other prices are climbing as well, which makes affordability increasingly difficult. Where can one discover the other side then, hidden parts of a world so big, yet so small, where “secret places” are revealed every month in travel books, travel blogs, travel magazines, newspapers, and internet sites? My solution to a question, that, at the time, I wasn’t even asking, turned up at my local bar.

Making friends in a new place is important. I made tons of friends in Turkey, it’s just…well, only one happened to be Turkish. Travelers from all over the world made their way through my life during the summer, and I was fortunate enough to exchange contact information, and even stay in touch, with many of them. One will never see another’s culture if one doesn’t make more of an effort to know the people in it. Thanks to the European Cup, I met my friend Dolun, and together we survived our time in Selcuk. We also met amazing people, which wasn’t surprising for her, being a non-tourism associated Turkish girl, but astounded me and my two close American friends in Turkey.

I discovered that the world really IS as small as it sometimes seems, and that, just like I’d thought for so long, that people are people everywhere, no matter where you are. The same problems, the same social classes, the same stresses at work, in love, in life. I saw natural beauty like I hadn’t seen before, the kind that is so perfect a photo couldn’t capture it. Beauty unparalleled, enhanced by the tranquility of a Sunday drive, and through the imaginings that a quiet world untouched by machinery still exists. Mountains on one side, dense forest on the other, lakes and rivers cutting through, a shepherd crouched by the side of the road, watching his sheep grazing through the dusky twilight. Wild horses, wild grapes, walnut trees dripping with nutty fruit, babbling brooks so clear and fresh one wonders how Turkish water is so unsafe to drink. Of course, all of these things can be found in America, and I’ve been lucky enough to see many of them. I just can’t recall a moment where I have seen them all at the same time.

Looking beyond our own borders is the key to understanding the world that we are now a part of. I’ve read books by Turkish authors (and not just that “city boy, “ as one friend here calls him, Orhan Pamuk, though I have read his books) I would have never discovered without some help. I have discovered musical styles which I probably never would have heard. I met former fascists, capitalists, and communists, not intellectuals, but educated people trying to find their place in the world. My physical appearance suits their idea of America, but my attitude does not. Every horror story I heard here about some horrid person always, always, always was about an American. In some small way, for at least some small group of people, I hope I changed their perspective. I know they have changed mine.

The end of the (Turkish) road...

There are white tents pitched along the side of the road, under whose protection lies the bounty of this beautiful land. Silver-tipped olive trees, drooping from being so laden with fruit, cover the fields to my right. Peach tres, fig trees, and apricot trees fill the valley to my left. In the pink shadow of the misty mountains, time is erased. I could stare at its beauty, breathtaking, no matter how many evenings I’ve watched the sun set here, for what I feel is an eternity. Cypress trees, tall and regal, dot the landscape, and I forget for a moment that I’m not in Tuscany. I am certain if I went into those tents, if I weren’t here on my bus, those tent-pitchers would be the sweetest, simplest, most generous folk I’ve met.

When I moved away from North Dakota and settled in New Jersey, I couldn’t wait to leave. And then, being gone, I couldn’t wait to visit. I’d never realized all of the things I loved so much were right in front of me. It took me a couple of years to realize that, and I’m learning, slowly, not to make the same mistake again. Were there times I hated every piece of beauty I saw every day? Of course. The irony of feeling constant misery in a place so lovely is not lost on me. But being removed from my unpleasant situation has returned my glasses to their rose-colored pallor. After all, this place has been my home for five months. Leaving it, like leaving anything or anyone you’ve fallen slowly in love with, is impossible without heartache. But leave it I shall, in just a few short hours. In my own way, Turkey, I will miss you.

an advertisement, in case anyone reads this...

For the best coffee in selcuk, come here:
www.stjohn316.net

It sounds biblical, but no one tries to sell me Jesus. That makes me very happy! And their coffee is delicious, as is their toast...
(I will make the toast when I get back to the States, I promise...)

Cheers!

Sofia, Bulgaria

I just thought this was such a beautiful building! And look at those weeping willows...

Ummm...is it just me or is this guy distinctly NOT Bulgarian? Odd.
The fence reminds me of my i-pod. Kirtie calls it communist colored...now I know why! And the McDrive...that's advertisement!

The gold domes are the top of the Alexander Nevsky cathedral. It is not allowed to take pictures inside. And then, the most beautiful spot in Sofia. Well, in my humble opionion anyway. :)

More Alexander Nevsky views...

I saw alot of these little bracelets tied around Greece and Bulgaria. It has something to do with the Virgin Mary...just don't ask me what because I forgot to remember (sorry!).

More beautiful views and buildings.

Ah, look at that little church! I think it is the St. George, if I recall the sign. I started singing "Somewhere my Love" when I saw it. I don't know why it reminds me of Dr. Zhivago, but it does.

St. Sofia, the namesake of the city. And a cool sculpture, right on the building! Amazing.





As a side note, I didn't really care for Sofia. This is all in a generally small area. There is also a great museum there...but then just a bunch of posters all around for nightlife. I split and went to Veliko Turnovo (thanks, Sam, for the rescue!) instead, which I madly, madly loved...

My Life as a Turkish Employee (or how I came to the end of my adventure before it really began)...

Really, it is difficult to begin to describe my days as a hotel worker in little Selcuk, Turkey. In spending nearly three months there, I saw more strange and bizarre incidents than seen in my previous 31 years. It all started off so good: a job offer as a traveler, a quaint small town in the hotbed of history, a couple of Americans nearby so as to not go into culture shock, and even a small stipend to boot. Who would pass up such an opportunity? Well, I for one did not, and while I have no regrets, I have certainly learned a great deal about looking beyond the surface of things. Just because something looks pretty doesn’t mean it hasn’t been slathered in cosmetic cover-ups to get that way.

When I visited Selcuk as a backpacker, I loved it. I spent a rain-soaked day at the Basilica of St. Jean, meeting another American as we avoided the “antique” coin sellers. We went on to the Crisler Library, a fantastic place run by an even more fantastic woman, Janet Crisler. There we met an Austrian girl, and spent an afternoon avoiding the rain by drinking wine at a lovely café down the road. Good chats, great people, a marvelous way to spend one’s day. I visited the ruins of Efes, took the bus to Sirince and sampled local wine, walked by one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World (the Temple of Artemis) and enjoyed the spectacular views of the valley. Idyllic, I thought, a paradise, absolutely heaven on earth. When I was offered a job later in the evening over a glass of Jack Daniels, my initial response was “no.” I had just started traveling, after all, and had much more to see before stopping. But then I went to Greece…and found I missed Turkey. I had a great experience overall during the three weeks I spent in the country. After a trip to Bulgaria, I decided to go back. What is the point of spontaneous travel if you can’t spontaneously stop?

I went to work at a brand new hotel that wasn’t completely finished (and to be honest, still is not). But, the best was made of it, we opened the hotel, we got a few guests…and it began. I had a great time. The terrace had beautiful views of Selcuk, and the sun shone and I had free time during the day to read, relax, and have coffee with my neighbors. In the evening, when guests would return from days spent out touring the sites, we would relax on the terrace, have some wine or beer, and talk about their day, their lives, their homelands. It was an awesome job, and I really loved it. Of course there were bumps in the road: the never-ending presence of my boss’s family and their never-ending smoking in a non-smoking hotel, the lack of a real understanding of what “boutique hotel” means to western travelers, who it was essentially built for, and, that old chestnut, trying to get paid. That was a battle started early on, which I had a difficult time in winning. But eventually my boss and I shook hands, he agreed he owed me money…and he continued to not pay me. I was promised, assured, constantly reminded not to worry, I would get paid in July for money owed as June was a busy month. I agreed, trusting in people’s general goodness. And so my work continued, I made friends; I became a part of the community. Two weeks later I started getting paid on a normal basis, and I thought everything was going just great. I still didn’t have the back pay, but no worries, July wasn’t too far away.

I frequented a local pub called the Pink Bar with an American I became good friends with. We frequented so much, in fact, we got our very own Efes (the place AND the pilsner) t-shirts! Official local status happened the day we realized tourists get charged more than double for ice cream. Suddenly, we were in and paying 3 lira for two (yes, TWO) piece chocolate and banana dipped in chocolate and nuts handmade ice cream cones. I had a brief love affair with the most un-normal normal boy I could find in Selcuk. Life was good. Then the ball dropped. I had to change hotels (my boss had two hotels under his management) as my beautiful hotel was being rented out to some geophysics workers for two months. I was going to the budget hotel where I stayed as a backpacker, where I would be waitress, late night drinking companion, and early morning breakfast buddy. The days would be free, which seemed good to me, and it was only until mid-July. Plus, my boss said those guys were paying a lot of money to rent the hotel, so getting paid in July would be no problem. Great, I thought, and began my new gig with gusto.

It started off great. Again, I loved the travelers, I loved hearing their stories and it was fun to share mine. I had the daytime free to go to Pamucak, the local beach, and so had a lovely tan. The nights weren’t always long, and I was free to socialize with friends after work. But then strange things started happening. My boss and his wife were having problems, and she left him for a short stint. He was “entertaining the ladies,” if you will, during her absence, and drinking-a lot-and making uncomfortable comments to me. Then I noticed the propensity of hookers coming in and out of the hotel, and saw they were being escorted by policeman, local businessmen, and the Selcuk elite. Then I heard the beating of a prostitute in our hotel, and was told to mind my own business. The boss’s wife, when she came back, thought I should stop seeing the guy I was dating, so I could “hook up” with all of the good-looking backpackers passing through. Then her husband went away for business, and she “entertained the fellows” in his absence. It was like a garbage pit of morality. All of the bad morals that got dumped in the rubbish by normal folk were festering here, in a little 20 room hotel. My friends were not allowed to come to the hotel anymore, so they were told by my boss. He never told me, and denied it when I confronted him. It felt like I was trying to be psychologically isolated.

Is it possible to become like poison when you are living in it? If the only way to survive the onslaught of evil is to become evil yourself, well, I was a super-villain. I can’t say I have ever been hateful. Not even at the most miserable, low, self-hating periods in my life have I been that way. One month here was all it took. I was angry, loathsome, defiant, challenging...my bosses discriminated against guests, and expected the same from me. They told lies, about the most foolish things. I approached them with contempt almost daily as a result. This only lasted one week. It was all I could take. I hated myself for putting up with it. And then July came…

And then no money came. My good old boss decided he didn’t want to pay me. I had reminded him the week before, about his promise to pay in July, and he said he might not have the money. As it turns out, he just didn’t want to pay me. So, I quit. His response? Good-get out. Thankfully, I made some really good friends who took me in, as I was living at the hotel. The same day as my quitting, my lovely friend Denise, who also happens to be Turkish, took me to the police station to file a report about the situation.

Let’s end this tale, as it is going to be ten more paragraphs about the corruption in Selcuk. The policeman, who promised to help me, to speak to the ex-boss about payment before I filed the report, lied. He had a good laugh with the bugger about the situation, and then refused to see me or answer my calls. I went to another police station, and the same thing happened. I had to call the embassy (no small task here, believe me), get them to call the tourist police, and get THEM to call the regular police. I needed two witnesses to say I worked at the hotel: those witnesses, no lie, were threatened. Their families were threatened. I was offered jobs, but those businesses were threatened. I found new witnesses…but wait! The embassy sent me an email (I emailed first, and got no response, so I called) saying I would face a penalty of, oh, any amount the Turkish authorities want to fine me, if I file the report indicating I was an illegal employee. I withdrew my report, and will re-file it when I leave the country. Will I get paid? Probably not. Will I get back the money that was stolen from me (did I ever share that story with anyone besides mom?)? Again, probably not. Is there any recourse for the buggers who swindled me in Istanbul? No, I realized it too late, and honestly, nobody here really seems to care. I am American. I therefore have lots of money. My fate matters to no one. That sounds a bit dramatic, I suppose, but that’s how I am feeling.

The options now are this: stick around in Selcuk, and hope I get paid so I can continue my adventure (I need the money after swindling/robbing events); head to Syria for a few days, and try to get to Israel after for a few more days; if no money is paid, well, head to England, try to connect with some friends I made that live there, and use that return ticket back to New York that I have for September 10. To say I am disappointed is an understatement. However, I have learned a lot, I have all of my gear still, and nothing says there can’t be a next time. Maybe even next year! I am a foolish, foolish girl at times, much too trusting. Despite what I say out loud, that is the truth of me. I have always been more honest on paper than in life. I feel like I am twenty…and not in a good way.

Alas, the shoestring will most likely be taking a hiatus. Hope for some sort of miracle, kids…or better yet, a job (outside of Turkey)! I’ll keep you posted.

This one is for Amy

My dearest friend, Amy Denise D.K. (to preserve her privacy, as if the entire world doesn’t know who she is already!), is not a touchy-feely sort of girl. As I make friends with locals in Selcuk, I understand why.
I like giving hugs. Really! I think hugs are totally underrated, and sometimes I would like to have 7 per day. I got used to the “kiss on the cheek” greeting from years of living in New Jersey, though I can’t say it’s a habit I kept and brought back to North Dakota.
Well, here, it’s hugging. It’s kissing on the cheek (twice). And then…it’s hand-holding…and hands on thighs…and back rubbing… Are you freaked out yet? That’s what happens with WOMEN! Really, I was nervous that I was giving off a vibe. You know…a vibe!! I have no problems with that sort of thing, except I really do love boys. Of course they are buggers! But that’s just the way it is. Apparently, the same can be said for the ladies here. There is no fishy business going on, no quasi-lesbian come-ons. It is just a touchy-feely sort of culture. I noticed, then, as I’ve been thinking about this (as I am chronically disturbed and long for the safety of Amy’s home), that men walk down the street arm in arm, they hug each other, a perfunctory part of the day. So Amy, my advice is this: do not move to Turkey. You may get mauled and have your thigh rubbed because you’ve become such good friends with someone, they may spontaneously kiss you on the cheek and start to rub your back because they just plain old love you. Your discomfort level will skyrocket, as will your blood pressure. As you are my dearest friend, I wanted to give this information to you in a public forum, so others will know and stop any notions you have of moving here…and then getting robbed, swindled, and molested, like your old friend Kirsten. :)

A stupid fairy tale about Little Caesar's Pizza...

Once Upon a Time, in a far off land called Fargo, there lived two girls: one was small and pretty, the other, a giant wildebeest like creature. They worked together in a magical place called Pier 1. Every Thursday, as became tradition, after sweating profusely from hauling large pieces of furniture and moving around strange inventions known as pedestals, they would eat two very special dishes. The first was a beautiful, round, spicy thing called “pepperoni pizza.” The other, small, greasy, and doughy, was called “breadstick.” With this “breadstick,” there came a sauce. And the sauce was tomato-y and delicious. The girls would dip their breadsticks in the sauce, sigh, and think it was the most wonderful creation on earth. And to wash it all down, nectar from the heavens, a sweet and fruity concoction called Mountain Dew. It sounds earthy, of course, but it was truly something sent from the gods.

Ok, ok, enough of my stupid fairy tale. The point is this: today, the ravenous wildebeest known as me discovered something magical. By mixing the local yogurt with this pepper paste sold by the jar, and eating it with a loaf of bread, it almost, almost, tastes like the dipping sauce for Little Caesar’s breadsticks. Really! I just discovered it at dinner, as I was so hungry I thought I might actually eat the entire loaf of bread. Don’t ask me why I was so hungry! I’m a wildebeest, what do I know?

What is that Cat Power song? “Aretha, sing one for me.” Courtney, eat a breadstick for me. Wait… instead, eat a pepperoni pizza and wash it down with a mountain dew for me!

Hadrian's Gate, Antalya

Built by the Emperor Hadrian (honestly, this guy was everywhere!) during his reign...

It is in the old city of Antalya.

Side and the Temple of Apollo

Side (pronounced "see-day") is a small Mediterranean village in Turkey, famous only for its beautiful Temple. It is a small town, but becoming, like all towns on the coast of Western Turkey, resortish...

It was my first sighting of the Mediterranean. And it was windy. Again. :)

Pamukkale and Hieropolis

A little background information: the ruins at Hieropolis are located above and next to the calcite cliffs of Pamukkale, widely considered one of the 7 wonders of the natural world. Pretty cool to see both things for the price of one admission! The waters are supposed to have healing properties as well--so, if you've got a skin condition, it's the place to be.

You can see the village of Pamukkale in the distance. It is physically about the size of Kindred (for those of you not in the know, it's my hometown). It looks like it would be so cold here...but it was hot as blazes and bloody windy! You can see by the palm trees in their permanent sway.

My feet got a little soak...

photos, photos, everywhere

Thanks, Kirtie, for pointing out my complete lack of photos! I realize now that I have a whole catalog of fun to post, and I apologize for being a slacker. Having a bit of a slack job, I forget sometimes to be motivated...:)

Postings to follow, full of pictures.

cucumber is a fruit?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cucumber
Yes, I have too much time on my hands. Am I the only person that didn't know this? There was a great debate just now in the garden regarding the cucumber's relation to the melon (as it turns out, they are in the same genus)...and now we all have learned that cucumber is technically a fruit. I eat almost a cucumber a day. I feel better now that I have this important piece of information.
:)

cok sejek, or very hot...

Current Conditions (as of 4:50 PM)
Today's forecast
°F °C
Clear
97°F
Feels like: 112°F

OMG! I am going to die in August. Why does it feel so darn hot?!!!?!?!

Anyway, just wanted to point this out to everyone. I am living...in super-heat.

Where I am living...

I thought it might be nice to post some pictures for everyone to see my temporary home. There are some from where I work, some from the city, and some from my cell block--I mean, room. ;) It is quite small, as you will see on the picture. But, really, all I do there is sleep. And shower. I spend my day at the hotel that I work at, with its lovely terrace, sunshine, and endless supply of cheese and Nescafe. I bring my ipod, laptop, and book everyday, so I am always terribly, terribly busy. In the words of Annie and Jay-Z (and perhaps Dr. Evil? Jason, I need your help on that one, I can't remember Goldmember!), "It's a hard knock life." Luckily, I found time to take these photos...

My boss and his wife getting massaged by my new and dear Australian friends, Chris and Ann.

Me, doing my best (apparent) Britney Spears impression in my new pink hat...it has a squishy dog on the front. Only 5 Lira, brilliant!

Simsin, my work buddy, breakdancing on one of our many dance party days. He and Ali are the world's greatest dancers, I'm sure of it. Sim is a riot, too. Mildly psychotic, I think, but in a good way. :)

Juliana, my partner in crime. This was on hat day, at our local hangout (also known as "The Pink Bar"). It was only our hat day, of course, but we thought it was brilliant. Yes, they were hats for wee ones, but we loved them too much to pass them up!





My fake boyfriend, Ali. If he were 5 inches taller and 10 years older (oh, hell, I'd settle for 5, he's so frickin' sweet), he would be mine. He is my Turkish/Dance teacher. Also good for compliments, hand holding, and movie watching. One of my favorite Selcukians, for sure.

Me, dancing, full of trepidation (and in my jacket, less exposure is better!), at my buddy's birthday party. It was so much fun! There were gypsy dancers and we ate wild boar. WILD BOAR. How awesome is that? I taught them Jason's addage: "I love the pig." The fellas were pretty excited about it!

Even cows need sun! At the local beach, Pamucak (pronounced "'pam-oo-jack"). I could harldy believe it. I think a few of them are sunbathing!

A view up my work street, with an empty building (that my friend Jules and I want to make into a wine bar), St. Jean's Basilica, and the Selcuk Castle in the background.

That is a streetlamp (clearly). They are all over the old part of the city...except they are never on at night! I think they've forgotten to change the bulbs.











I love the storks! Here they are on a really old building...but I have no idea what it is! They don't look real sometimes, as they sit so still. I love this photo, with the gray sky.

A room without a view, also known as the "F Type." It's named for a prison room here. Charming, no? It's where I stay...:)

The Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Or, what is remaining of it. I think I posted info about it before. This is a view from my work terrace. Notice the stork on top! They love the ruins.

A nice view. This is facing west, towards the sea. The sunsets at night are beautiful. The sky turns an amazing shade of pink that doesn't seem to translate well to film. It's a nice way to spend an evening...especially if there is wine involved!

Oh, the palm trees. Beyond those trees is an olive orchard, and a vineyard. It's a beautiful walk, and goes right past the Temple, and with a few additional kilometers, to Efes. And you get to walk past the Jandarma. No intimidation meant, I'm sure.

The Selcuk castle. It's crumbling, so you can't go there...unless you take "the secret trail" after dark! Pay a kid 5-10 lira at night, and he will guide you in. Getting out, well, you're on your own. It's pretty amazing, so I hope it gets some restoration funds. Soon.

My beautiful work street. Also taken from the terrace...Selcuk is in a valley, as you can see. Every direction is surrounded by these misty hills. Even on sunny days, they keep their ethereal fog. It's so lovely in the morning. I'll try to capture sunrise one day.

The Basilica of St. Jean, or John the Apostle. His rumored burial place only costs 2 lira to enter, with spectacular views of the city. Another lovely view from my work terrace. I am pretty lucky, I fear.

A view of part of my neighbor hotel's pool...where I will be swimming later today! It is a much larger hotel. Mostly I just like the pool, and the free beer said neighbor shares sometimes.

The Isabey Mosque, and part of the terrace. Isabey translates, roughly, to "Mr. Jesus." I don't know, that gives me a chuckle every time I think about it!