It’s beeen awhile since Carolz Travelz hit the road for something out of the ordinary. We all know why. Recently we took a short trip to Tennessee to visit three of my five siblings. That was cut short as we had to get home before a massive storm system crept up here.
During the drive back we started calculating a trip out to Cortez, Colorado, to visit Larryz mom: gas, hotels, meals, gas, wear and tear on car and butts. And we don’t do 10-hour car drives anymore. We looked at flying. Certainly sort of convenient and fast but not without hassles and COVID crowds.
We got home ahead of the storm and I stated thinking about Amtrak. I haven’t been on a sleeper train since 1979 when I traveled from West Berlin to Frankfurt, Germany on the US Military Duty train. Cheap and slow and nothing to write home about after the first time.
Would Amtrak be better? Turns out, Yes indeed! Two nights and almost three days each way, all meals included with a roomette (may or may not have a toity depending on the age of the train car) and only one change, in Chicago.
With a bit of research and the help of a goood travel agent we are all booked for round trip from Martinsburg, WV, to Grand Junction, CO. Parking fees at the station are minimal and safe. We have a house/cat sitter coming in for 10 days. We are packed and the house is clean. A great way to have peace of mind for this trip.
Is it the cheapest way to go? Probably not. But train travel hopefully comes with peace of mind, relaxation, safety and convenience. I’ll let you kow how it goes. All Aboard!
Yes, yes, I know I have tried this before. Tried and failed. Succumbed to flattery that I was needed. Didn’t have a plan for post working life. But this time it’s for sure and for certain. This time there are no regrets, no sense of something left undone, no worry about what’s next.
I am back on a new series of journeys, highways and byways. They are all named RETIREMENT.
Anticipating applying for benefits when I am 66 and 2 months old, I recently reviewed my Social Security records, I have worked and earned Social Security quarters since 1972, 49 years. I have been working for 49 years, sounds like a lifetime. I have earned less than $800.00 a year and nearly $80,000.00 another year. My Air Force pay was paltry for most of those 22 years. But I had a housing allowance, or a bed provided. In those 49 years I never wanted for anything.
I have had a puny Christmas tree branch on a wall in a West Berlin basement apartment and four Christmas trees in a beautiful log home in Tennessee. I have dined with ambassadors and generals and homeless families. I have owned bare bones cheap cars and luxury Volvo sedans. My jobs were as varied as one might imagine – Publix grocery store bakery, day care provider and a fabric store to Counterintelligence Case Officer, CEO of non-profits, business owner and college professor, plus several more.
I brought home so much day-old bakery product that my mom of six children actually told me to STOP. And I have packed a mayonnaise jar of mom’s best chicken and dumplings on a plane returning from leave. I have vacationed in Morocco and Israel, Serbia, and Portugal, to name a few. And, we have more Turkish memorabilia and decor in our home than American.
I have worn clergy collars, Air Force and Girl Scout uniforms, police chief stars, and a dowdy brown bakery outfit. Most uniforms I appreciated because I didn’t have to choose what to wear every day. My work tools included multiple handguns, Girl Scout knives and John Wesley’s NRSV Commentary Bible. I have used the most sophisticated of classified military equipment and the most rudimentary paper codes.
I have been addressed as ‘dearie’ and ‘sweetie,’ Chief, Pastor Carol, Reverend Rhan, Miss Carol, ma’am, and Agent Rhan. I answered to them all and some will always be with me after RETIREMENT.
I have had the privilege to Baptize a 96-year-old man, many infants and my most recent and last, an 8-year-old girl who personally requested me. I have accompanied little girls through forensic medical exam and sat with elderly folks through their last days and minutes. I have interviewed senior Pentagon officials, too many victims of crimes and interrogated pedophiles and rapists. I have conducted surveillances on halls and walls and the streets of Istanbul. I have pastored drug addicts, gays, adulterers and depressed persons and mentored young adults and others.
I have been ‘let-go’ from a job and fired subordinates. I have received significant military honors and been elevated to military and civilian positions I never dreamed of. And, I have received the greatest of support and mentoring from more leaders than I experienced from misogynistic idiots. I like to believe I have left all my work situations better than the way I found them.
There are many stories and life lessons and perhaps there is a memoir in there somewhere, too. Maybe my retirement will get me to penning a few of the non-fiction books that I’ve been dreaming of.
One of the for sure and for certain plans of my RETIREMENT is that I won’t be alone. Larry Condon has been with me since 1984. Always encouraging, wondering where I will take us next, and what I’ll put on next week’s menu. His life has made my work life and my personal life so much easier. And I am grateful.
It’s taken me a couple of months, but I am finally connecting the word, RETIREMENT, to me: Carol Elaine Rhan, age 64, now with good health, sufficient finances and a lust for life.
Last year, 2019, I underwent open heart surgery in February, breast cancer surgery in August and 33 sessions of radiation therapy. I kept waiting for an “Aha” moment that would change my outlooks on life and mortality. It didn’t happen! I was so into the processes and the journeys of these events there wasn’t time nor inclination for deep thinking.
What did occur to the rational planner in me was I needed to reduce stress. Stress that I don’t consciously feel. Stress that comes from being the ‘responsible’ person, the in-charge person, the accountable person. Stress that is not recommended for new heart valves and breast cancer mitigation.
So, retirement it is. Not that I won’t be stressed! But, I look forward to getting my hands dirty, literally and figuratively, with ministries that I am passionate about. The fun stress that comes with creating handmade cards and scrapbooks. The visionary stress that results from planning nearby and far away, short and long, vacations from retirement. The enjoyable stress from deeply researching, studying and preparing for sermons in someone else’s church. And, finally the new stress that comes from living closer to my husband Larry’s daughters and granddaughters. He has already determined that our dining table will accommodate all six of us for family dinners.
So, I hope you’ll follow me on the ups and downs of this journey into and during retirement. My travelz may be different but I’m still going places!
Last night, I decorated my house for Christmas. I’m sure many other folks decorated for the holidays too. What was special for me was that I hadn’t done this for the past two years. And frankly, I sorta missed the experience.
Let me take you back a few years. In October and November 2016, we were preparing for and actually did move to Urla, Turkey. We didn’t move into our own apartment until Christmas Day and our household goods, meager as they were, came later. I don’t recall I was too upset by this, no major melancholy, because I was living what I’d hoped was my dream retirement in Turkey.
When we left for Urla, we sold or gave away all but about 1200 pounds of stuff. I went from 10 plastic storage boxes, two wreath cases, spools and spools of lights and swags, linens and dishes, and various odds and ends to two plastic storage boxes. Two bins to hold my most precious Christmas things, a few fall decorations and my magnificent European Easter eggs. These were the boxes I opened last night.
But then last year, we had to return to the US at Thanksgiving. We spent Christmas with my husband’s daughters and family. Lo and behold, there were my Christmas ornaments and decorations! But they were no longer mine, didn’t feel like mine, didn’t carry my memories on each and every one. They were part of someone’s else’s massive and overwhelming Christmas ‘stuff.’ That was hard for me. Those things were no longer special. My memories were there, but…..
Two years ago, I had been very deliberate and discerning when I chose what to keep as my forever Christmas decorations: mom’s handmade soft ornaments, small stockings bought over the years at craft shows and church bazaars, multi-cultural and ethnic nativities, pieces bought at German Christmas markets, representations of Native Americans, a handmade felt table runner made by a treasured church friend, my first grown-up ornament, a Santa kilim, Christmas stockings I made for Larry and I when we were first married and finances were a bit slimmer, and.. and.. and.. And here they all were, ready for me to make them a new home.
This year I added my own soft, handmade, ornaments. (Easier to store and ship). And, even with what at first seemed like a paltry number of decorations, I could not fit them all on our artificial, self-lit tree. So, maybe, I have my own overabundance of Christmas stuff. But more than ever, these are the ones that mean the most. Now allow me to indulge myself with more pictures and comments.
I bought this China doll at Macy’s in Monterey, CA, in 1974. I think it cost about $10.00 and I felt so grown up to spend my own money. Forty-four years old!
These stockings I made of pre-quilted fabric in 1985. I was working at a House of Fabrics and no doubt got a discount. Still searching for the photo with Larry wearing them on his feet. Never been filled to the top.
The big guy Snowman was the first one in my snowman collection; now reduced to four pieces. He is a smoker from West Berlin about 1978. The sprig of holly and the red bird are gone, but he’s still pristine white.
The tiny Snowman is also from West Berlin about the same time. I’ve had to glue back his nose once or twice but he still smiles. The gourd snowman was made around 2008, by a young woman in Ocoee, TN. I had a much bigger one that didn’t make the cut. Last night I had to glue back some of the lights. It happens, but she’s still bright.
In perhaps 2009, Beverly Ferguson and I went on a doll buying spree in Heidelberg, Germany, in preparation for the Annual Training Conference with USA Girl Scouts Overseas. You had to be there! We searched several antique and second hand stores, got lost once or twice, but filled her Volkswagon with many treasures. The Stieff bear was one of them. And while I was tempted to just take it home, I bought it like everyone else had to, at the auction.
I found The Grinch at a First UMC Cortez United Methodist Women’s Christmas bazaar. Cost $1.00 and I still feel a bit guilty that maybe some kid should have had it.
More West Berlin,Germany treasures. The Nativity has had many repairs over the years. But I still use it’s original box; now nearly 40 years old.
One of this year’s handmade pieces with a Thai dancer Larryz grandmother bought for us years ago. The Russian ornament is from Ramstein Christmas Bazaar and the little ball says Sienna, Italy, on it. The Santa a is one of my mom’s hung beside a very cool Polish pottery sweater.
Closing out with some of this year’s ‘discerned’ Christmas purchases. Well, the little Advent stockings I liberated from my sister Susie. I couldn’t resist a straw cow and pig and little red wagon. And, the fake foliage in an antique copper pot next to one of Larryz handmade furniture pieces looks pretty.
Thanks for taking this journey with me. I know everyone will be making their own holiday memories, wherever you are. For my Turkish friends, Yeni Yiliniz Kutlu Olsun.
This kilim is 30 years young! Thank-you to Fatma and Yetki Tuna.
I love soups! I’ll eat them year round. They are filling. They can be healthy. They add variety to my weekly menus. They are reasonably priced. But, of course, all this presupposes that I am not actually buying the ingredients and preparing the soup myself.
A few weeks ago, after some fairly mild weather, we had another cold and dreary stretch. One day, after I came back from aqua yoga, I felt the pull of Chicken Tortilla Soup for lunch. We are fortunate to live two doors away from a wonderful Peruvian Chicken restaurant. So I bundled up and went for soup.
“Sorry. No soup in summer!”
Summer! Where? Not on the calendar and certainly not in my damp bones. Really! According to Jimmy Buffet, you can even get a Margarita somewhere in the world, 24/7. So I came back home for more money and went out in search of hot soup for lunch. I was on a mission.
My next thought was a charming, locally owned, deli/cafe with high-end products for one of their daily soups. I went in and they had changed their daily menu to just two soups: tomato and some other. Neither one appealed. But they offered me a squash soup from the day before. Nope, that would not satisfy my taste buds that day.
Thinking I would settle for Tortilla Soup from an ‘okay’ Mexican restaurant, I walked back towards home. I was at the door when the restaurant opened and still waited about 30 minutes for a large container to go. Love leftover soups, too. Gosh, I couldn’t wait to get home and dive into the hot soup with extra tortilla strips.
You know by now where this is going. The soup was tomatoey and watery at the same time and left a lovely lingering bouquet of oil residue on my lips. So disappointed. While my husband was reasonably supportive over my ordeal (he usually eats two hotdogs for lunch), I was seriously disappointed.
Before you think I am a spoiled brat with too many choices, let me explain. I do have a spoiled brat soup palate.
I love German style tomato soup. It is thick and hearty and is often served with a dollop of cream. Add a nice roll and I’d be set.
I just won’t risk the taste of bad tomato soup from a can or local restaurant.
There is no better all-around healthy and hearty soup than the Chicken Tortilla I had been in search of that day. I tried a canned version once. Too laughable.
How can you not love this warm Chicken Tortilla Soup with fresh avocado and crispy corn strips! I even ordered this soup when I first met the Lay Leadership for lunch at Delta United Methodist Church.
And when we got back to Turkey, I couldn’t wait for my first bowl of Lentil Soup. Like many soup recipes, Mercimek Corbasi can have a variety of textures and flavors.
My preference is with a good squeeze of fresh lemon juice and hot bread. Our friends at Maison Vourla Boutique Hotel made a huge pot of this soup for Larry during his recovery from back surgery. Well, not just for him.
At Chinese and other Asian restaurants, my ‘go to’ soup is Hot and Sour. Unlike Tomato Soup, I will risk eating even bad Hot and Sour Soup.
I only recall one place, in Istanbul, where the Hot and Soup was inedible. The restaurant was probably the only one I ever gave a poor Trip Advisor rating.
Not too long ago, we were having lunch with Larryz daughter Jennifer at a Thai restaurant. Larry claims it’s the best he’s had and I love their Coconut Lime Mushroom Soup. It was another pleasant weather day on the walking mall in Old Town Winchester, Virginia. After our soups arrived, Jennifer said, “I can’t wait for winter again when we can have soups more often!”
Yesterday I ordered cold Gazpacho Soup.
I hope everyone is happy now!
Note: All the soup photos except the Gazpacho are from stock photos on Google but they represent my favorite styles.
Our Maison Vourla friends also made a huge pot of chicken vegetable soup for us, too.
In the last several weeks I have been in eight states and the District of Columbia traveled hundreds of miles. One major thing I learned: I still have it in me!
I initially thought about writing about the horrors of traveling on A ______n Airlines. But I don’t want to spend valuable reader time on the negative aspect of travel. After-all, most of us probably have travel nightmares.
Nah, I’m going to tell you anyway.
It’s actually funny in retrospect. Which is another great reason not to e-mail, Instagram or FaceBook in the middle of a problem without some breathing room. Last month I arrived at Dulles Airport headed for a week’s visit with my mother-in-law in Colorado. Easy peasy; just one change in Dallas (DFW). I checked in using the kiosk system (not my favorite), and discovered my flight was delayed 90 minutes. That made the connection in DFW to Durango (DUR), CO, impossible. By-the-way, on weekends, this airline only has one flight per day from DFW to DUR. Fortunately, at the kiosk I was put on a much later flight. Not sure how that was possible since there is only one flight a day, my original flight. When we arrived at DFW, the later flight was also late: down for maintenance, overbooked, late, late. So at 2100/9:00 p.m. a flight full of DUR passengers were schlepping to airport hotels. Well, not schlepping anything since luggage was still at the airport. Thankful for the small men’s style comb, toothbrush and toothpaste the five-star hotel provided for dozens of weary travelers.
The following morning I showed up for my flight on a different airline via Denver to Durango. On the take off the pilot made an abrupt stop and taxied off the runway. Whoa! Never a good sign! We were informed the problem could be fixed while we wait 30 minutes on the tarmac. Free water and an extra bag of five peanuts helped us pass the time. Wrong! We were back in the terminal in 40 minutes later waiting for a plane to arrive from Steamboat Springs to take us onto DUR.
In the end, it took over 30 hours to get from the east coast to Durango, CO.
My mother-in-law and I had a great visit, although one day short. I really felt for poor Fatma who had to spend all those hours in my suitcase! She was ready for clear Colorado air.
Fatma wouldn’t even wait for the 90 minute drive to my mother’s-in-law house.
This was Fatma’s first trip out west so she made the most of it.
Hangin’ in the breeze.
Sunning like a turtle on a rock. It was chilly that day but she insisted.
Let me divert to talk about the rental car from DUR. Nice little Nissan something with a navigation screen the size of a business card. On our revised Day 1 of my visit, heading to Farmington, NM, I noticed a low tire pressure warning light. Ugh! Another delay of 40 minutes to have it checked out. Throughout the next several days, there were times when I couldn’t get remove the key from the ignition. Very frustrating and caused me to leave my nearly 87 year-old mother-in-law in the car with the windows down, like a puppy. On Day 3, after returning from a long drive to and from Delta, CO, the key wouldn’t come out at all. Sitting in the driveway, I called the A__S customer service line. What a whirlpool. And I was in the downward vortex. In the end I had two options: have the car towed with no replacement or drive back to the airport for a working vehicle.
I opted to go back to the airport. The good news was that I was given an upgrade to a Subaru Outback! For at least a day and a half we traveled in style.
Fatma thought the Subaru was roomier.
The return flights had less drama and free movies, so really, should I complain?
A few days later I started a long-planned five-hour drive from Winchester, VA, to Edith Macy Conference Center in New York. Girl Scouts will know this place as Camp Macy. Almost eight hours later, I arrived at Macy for a conference of Girl Scouts of the USA National Volunteer Partners (NVP). We’re volunteers who act as in-house consultants for GSUSA and local councils throughout the US.
But the trip! OMG! Why don’t New Jersey and Pennsylvania spend any money on major highways? Wait, I was traveling on interstates so maybe that is the federal government’s responsibility. Anyway, horrible roads, including nearly 45 minutes to cross the Tapanzee Bridge near New York City. Over eight hours after I started out, I arrived at Camp Macy.
Again, the road back home on Sunday afternoon was much easier and faster, even on the poorly maintained highways.
Other than realizing I still have it in me to do lots of traveling. I can take away a few other lessons.
There is always an opportunity for a better return than the trip to somewhere.
People say, “It’s the journey, not the destination.” Thank-goodness both of my destinations had better experiences that the journeys to them.
It’s fun to travel with a friend. I loved showing Fatma the sights of southwest Colorado. I should have had her along for my trip to Camp Macy. She might have received the special Macy Pin as a first time visitor.
All airlines and rental car companies have the same problems and same level of customer care. Just have to get over it.
Finally, I learned that I am ready to travel again!!! But maybe I’ll get Scotty to beam me up.
Notes:
These folks represent about half of the women, and one man, National Volunteer Partners.
Laughing with my Girl Scout ‘twin’ Margaret was one of the reasons this destination was better than the journey.
Before I left Camp Macy behind in Chappaqua, NY, I was able to have lunch with two nieces, their husbands and a great nephew and a nephew and his boyfriend. My sister, their mom, was there being a grandma for awhile. These young couples all live ‘in the City.’
How I Spent Two Nights and Three Days in a Veterans Administration Hospital
For weeks, maybe even months if I really think about it, I have been feeling sort of run down. Initially, I decided it was just the major move and not getting as much walking and exercise as I was doing in Turkey a few short months earlier. Then, in January (was it just last month) I was out walking on an unusually warm day and couldn’t even do a mile and half. It was one of only two times I recall having to call Larry to come pick me up from a walk. The other was in Livorno, Italy, when I’d fallen on a river walk near our home. I figured there was something going on with my heart, yuck! Or my lungs, except Albuterol didn’t improve my fatigue or shortness of breath. Plus, I’d had a full physical in January with good results. Yet, in my head, I kept hearing Harry Potter tell Ronald Weasley, “That’s just not normal.”
On Tuesday, February 20, I called the Veterans Administration Community Out Based Clinic (CBOC) and was able to get into a same day appointment. I guess telling someone you have shortness of breath and can’t lift your arm to hold a hair dryer are symptoms on some sort of checklist. When I saw the doctor she noted that my iron level had been a few quarts low in January. Oops! So she sent me off to the Martinsburg WVA VA (got that) hospital for more blood work and consult. All this when I could barely walk across a parking lot, climbing the eleven steps in our house was like Kilimanjaro and I didn’t even have an appetite for mac & cheese comfort food
I gave up a little precious blood, picked up some iron pills and other stuff from the hospital and we headed back home. En route I had a missed call from the hospital. I got a second call as we were sitting down to dinner at 6:00 p.m. An emergency room (ER) doctor told me my anemia was at a critical level and I needed to get back to the hospital for a blood transfusion! Well, after I cleaned up the food that I’d spit out of my mouth, we chatted for a bit. He said it could wait until I saw my primary care physician the next day. He later told me I had sounded lucid and able to make decisions, even running near empty.
The next day, Wednesday, my doc sent me right back to the ER; do not pass go, do not stop for iced tea, which we did anyway, get a blood refill. You get the picture. Oh, and I let Larry drop me off and pick me up at the CBOC door. Truly I wasn’t feeling like myself.
I was met in the ER by the same physician who had called the night before. Old friends’ week for us. After seeing a gastroenterologist, I was admitted and the next two nights and three days were filled with late night blood transfusions, fasting, internal and external exams and all-night Forensic Files marathons. The final results are new (probably lifetime) meds, light activity but no exertion for a while, adding more iron rich foods to my already fairly healthy diet, and some very doable lifestyle changes. Could take up to three months to get everything back to a working normal.
Now for some insights:
If it wasn’t for immigrants, certainly this VA hospital would not be able to operate. Dr. Gonzalez-ER, Dr. Singh- GI, Dr. Ali – hospitalist, Laila – nurse anesthetist, various care givers and pharmacists from Ghana, India, Philippines, Niger, etc. Sadly, however, during one conversation with a former Air Force flight nurse, she related there are some veterans, receiving top-level care at no cost (my commentary), who object to be cared for by former or current ‘enemies:’ Arabs, Vietnamese, suspected Muslims. This would have made my blood boil if I’d had enough to boil.
There was so much technology and safety redundancy in all my care. I had only a smidgen of apprehension about a blood transfusion. Not like I could have fought it. But even taking a temp or blood pressure began with name and Social Security number checks and scanning my wristband.
I only experienced kindness, patience and compassion and saw this professionalism with other patients I observed from my passing gurney, wheelchair or later as I walked the halls. For example, there were two elderly men who mostly sat in the wide hall or slept in the hallway. This seemed odd since there were a few empty beds on the Acute Care ward. These veterans were waiting for permanent placement in a nursing home. Rather than turn them over to a homeless shelter or out on the street (read the newspapers to see that this really does happen in America), they stay there. And since they are prone to wandering and falls, they stay always with eyesight and hearing of the staff. During the day, they even get physical and occupational therapy visits. Several times, I saw medical staff just sitting and talking with them.
Most of my nursing was performed by veterans and many retired military medical professionals. Custodial staff were pretty much all veterans as, according to one of them, they receive priority hiring. Some of these men appeared to have found a safe place to work after having lived pretty hard lives.
I was surprised that I had a private room. Several years ago, there was some funds set aside for women veterans’ care that included some private rooms. There was at least one other female veteran on the ward when I was there. The floor also had four and two person rooms. And no, they wouldn’t leave an empty bed if they needed one for a male, because they still need quarantine rooms.
Finally, my overwhelming experience with the Veterans Administration since 1996 has been not just positive, but excellent. Yes, there have been stinker employees and contractors (doctors to administrators and nurses to custodians) and lab results and appointments that took longer to get than I wanted. But the VA is handling more veterans than it was ever designed to do. In January we attended an orientation to the Martinsburg VA hospital. The vast majority of the 100 or so attendees were well into their senior years and probably already on Social Security and Medicare. Yet, they could still receive some veterans’ medical benefits at the VA.
Hopefully, my next VA Staycation will be a bit more comfortable without the necessity of drugs or Jell-O cups, but I will always be grateful for the care and compassion and positive diagnosis I received on this one.
Special thanks to Larry for the gentle nags and taxi service these past few days. He had to eat a lot of crappy hospital cafeteria meals and missed his daily naps. Although he liked the chili cheese dogs, which I can never eat again.
Note: The opinions expressed here reflect only my recollection of conversations and observations. I do not speak for the Veterans Administration and cannot otherwise confirm that everything I witnessed or was told is official VA policy or history.
No. I haven’t dropped off the planet after leaving Turkey, my heart home. But finally life here in Winchester, Virginia, has settled into some routines; routines that are subject to change any time and routines that already need to be adjusted.
When we went looking for a rental house, we had a few things in mind: walk-able to recreation and entertainment, one story, three bedrooms and at least 1 1/2 bathrooms, small footprint and budget friendly. We enlisted the help of a Realtor through the local Chamber of Commerce and she showed us nine different rentals.
At one triplex townhouse, I got as far as the vestibule and Larry never crossed the threshold. Another reminded us of places we’d seen in Europe: garage on the first floor, living space on the second and bedrooms on the third. Oh, and bathrooms only on the third floor. Not!!
Our choice came down to two homes. One in an old neighborhood that’s over 100 years old, all wood floors, two plus bedrooms, two stories, two bathrooms, smallish yard, right on the sidewalk and lots of character. The other, suburbia, one story, newly built, three bedrooms and two baths, beautiful appliances, a small yard maintenance fee with great sidewalks in a manicured neighborhood.
Well, we really scored with our house on East Boscawen Street, inside Winchester’s Old Town District! Chose charm over modern. Idiosyncrasies over perfection. Two stories over one. Character over bland. The homes in Old Town are mostly well-cared for and and there is history everywhere, as you might expect from this part of the United States. And East Boscawen was the first house we viewed!
Because we had sold everything and moved across the globe twice in 13 months, we only furnished for OUR lifestyle, not conventional lifestyles. We ‘borrowed’ back some things Larryz daughter got from us, so the place is homey with Larryz wood crafting and more copper pieces. Naturally, we still have more carpets than floor to lay them, so some are back on the walls.
The recreation center is less than a mile away and includes an indoor pool and lovely grounds and trails. The historic ‘walking street’ with shops, restaurants and street entertainers is about a five minute walk. Market Street United Methodist Church is a short 7 minute walk. The Veterans Administration (VA) Community Out-based Clinic is six miles away and the closest VA hospital is only 25 minutes away. But I would be misleading if I didn’t share that there is tons of shopping and franchise restaurants in Winchester. And for my heart’s desire, Winchester has both Michael’s and JoAnns craft stores.
People we meet often ask why we decided on Winchester. The fact is, this area was always our ‘bug-out’ destination if we had to leave Turkey quickly. We stayed with Larry’s daughter and her family in Front Royal for a month or so. His other daughter also lives in Front Royal. We’ve also connected with Larryz in-law relatives and members of Larry’s former wife’s family.
And in the small world department, Larry met a cashier at Wal-Mart who is Turkish from the Izmir area. A server at a local pub has a brother-in-law who is Turkish. There is an international market with all kinds of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern products. We ate at the most expensive Turkish restaurant in Vienna, Virginia. And at the Chocolate Festival this weekend, I met a former Air Force linguist. We spoke only in English becasue his languages were Arabic, Dhurrie and Hindi and mine were Russian and Turkish.
So we are here. Is this a convenient location with lots of amenities? Yes. Is this our final home? Doubt it. Just hope our Target and Amazon furniture can make at least another move.
Notes: In case you hoped this new Carolz Travels will be stories about Civil War history in Virginia, you’ll be disappointed. Some folks are ate up, as they say with Civil War battlefields and monuments and history and who shot who, but that’s not me. What I can appreciate from that terrible part of US history is architecture and surviving buildings.
We made the third bedroom into a walk-in closet and ironing room. And yes, those are our office tables and chairs in the kitchen/dining area.
The question was, “What will you miss most about leaving?” The answer was, “Where do I start?”
It would be easy to talk about the weather, the fresh and plentiful fruits and vegetables, the lifestyle in an Aegean town, the travel opportunities and how far a fixed US dollar income goes in Turkey. But the real answer, “The people!”
There there are two traditional Turkish good-bye phrases; for those who are staying, Gule Gule, and for those who are leaving, Allahismarladik. I can’t use Allahismarladiik since a huge part of me is staying.
We are leaving friends, acquaintances and people who just have somehow clicked with us, even across language barriers. Whether we interacted with green grocers or taxi drivers, surgeons or teachers, neighborhood children or law enforcement, we have tried to be good ambassadors for the United States. So this final blog from Turkey, is about some of those folks who have enriched our lives.
There is no particular order of preference, because each has had an impact. But there are two couples with whom we made friends, that really made our stay possible and livable. They will be at the end. I’d thought about writing detailed stories about each, but really, that is for our memories right now. Or maybe I just can’t do those stories justice as I’m emotionally to close to leaving.
Larry and Tahsin on Art Street. Tahsin used his considerable network of ham operators in Urla to find Larry. He’d seen Larry picking up litter. Tahsin wanted to thank this ‘yabanci,’ foreigner, for taking care of the streets. They met a couple of times to pick up litter before Larryz surgery. We also had a nice afternoon with Tahsin and his family in their garden. We often met Tahsin at community events in town.
Tolga, on the right, especially, and Tonay Kilinch, are realtors that found our apartment for us. Their father told Tolga, a year ago, to make sure he took care of us, and he did. Running all over town to set up utilities and network. And then Tolga spent a lot of time helping us get out of the apartment. Whenever we met on the streets this last year, it was like we were old friends. Their kindness and help is beyond measure.
In February we were in Ankara visiting our friends, Fatma and Yetki Tuna. We have known them for over 34 years! Over dinner, we told Fatma that we were trying to find ways to volunteer in Urla. She picked up her cell phone and called the wife of a former mayor of Ankara. This woman knew someone in Izmir, who knew someone in Urla. Fatma wrote the name down, Tumay Tuncer. A few weeks later Tumay called us and we met for coffee. The rest is history. We did some volunteer work with a children’s charity, learned about environmental education for children, helped teach some English and taught the Hokey-Pokey! Tumay is a tireless advocate for kids and the community. I donated some of my excess crafting supplies to the group. They presented me with a small token of their thanks.
Onur Bulat is one of the BEST chefs we’ve found anywhere. His is the owner/chef of Levan Lokantasi. He mixes his mother’s old recipes with a modern twist to make every bite an event on it’s own. Every dish has a story. For instance, he shared a pear desert with pudding and bread in the bottom. The recipe was based on how his mom would give him croutons with a cup of tea and he would amuse himself for hours with it. We didn’t take that long to eat the desert! I would love to come back for a month or two and write a recipe book with him; including all the wonderful stories. His menu is on a blackboard and recently he told us that when he fixes a new dish, he asks himself what we would think of it. I doubt think I’ll ever have another cauliflower soup like he makes it.
I checked out two or three cargo companies when we arrived. Since the postal system is a bit backward, sending packages to the US was best by cargo. I chose to use MNG Cargo because this bright and helpful young woman reminded me of Rachel Maddow.
This is Mustafa, a master tailor. Turned out he and a carpet seller on Art Street would talk about us; wondering why we just walked directly along without smiling. After we met and he started doing some work for me, we became friendly. Here he has sewed all my Turkish patches onto a blanket that was a gift from the Turkish Guides in 2011.
Erdogan Akdenere is the master baker at Irmik Hanim Pastry shop. I don’t know why, maybe because he is also a military veteran, maybe because he is so soft-spoken and kind, but we took an immediate interest in each other. Erdogan and Larry seemed to have some sort of bond. We were very flattered when he invited us to watch him perform in a local theater.
The entire staff of Irmik Hanim Patisserie. We met most of them in the early days of our stay. I don’t know if it was good or bad to find out the shop was only a 10 minute walk from our apartment! When they found out we had to leave, they devised a going away party. Each one gave us a personalized gift! Can you imagine it? With one exception, they didn’t speak English and we communicated through my Turkish and a mutual joy of just being in the other’s company.
Erdogan and Ece Pakan, an artistic genius, came up with this. They tried different flavors of cake too. It was only by a split second decision that I didn’t wear the same tops that are reflected on the cake. Even my cross was painted on. Everything was edible except the sticks and my hashtag sign! We were beyond surprised.
Here are just a few of Irmik Hanim Staff: Erdogan, Esra in the flesh, Elif Kosnek (salep artist), Ece again, and Ogur and Defne Ozkutlu, Esra’s husband and daughter. Not pictured are Elif # 2 and Nurten. And yes, we got pictures of everyone with Fatma.
The staff at Maison Vourla Hotel. By now everyone probably knows we’ve spent a lot of time here; our first thirty days, power outages, Larryz rehab and now this last week. Plus almost weekly breakfasts, many dinners and a few gin and tonics. We were included in New Years and other celebrations. It just seemed like they took extra special care of us; more than wait staff or desk clerks or housekeeping.
There are a couple that are not pictured because it was their day off. Thank-you all for your care and compassion.
Nilsun, pictured in the middle, is the owner of Ohannes, a new hamburger restaurant in town. After retiring from Lennox, she decided she needed to find a burger place closer to home for her daughter rather than driving to Izmir all the time. Ohannes is a European chain. Nilsun took to us like bread and butter. We have enjoyed many a wonderful meal and conversations at Ohannes. Standing with them is “Dusty” who has served us at several places in town. I love to watch her adventures with her dog and scuba diving on Instagram.
The Ozkutlu Family – Friends, Confidants, Educators, Cultural Ambassadors, etc.
Many of you readers may know the line from the movie, Casablanca, that everyone meets at Rick’s Cafe. This is what Irmik Hanim feels like. I know I have never met anyone before who was trained at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. The circle of clientele and friends is so vast. Well, and the pastries and chocolate goodies and ice creams and, filtered coffee and, and, and…..certainly helped. But it was their authenticity and comfortableness right off the bat, that made us great freinds. Simply lovely people who enriched us with engaging conversations and many laughs.
Defne, who is 12, also likes Levan Lokantasi and we had our final meal there. By the way, she speaks three langiages. Well, so does Esra, at least three.
In the world is just ‘too small’ department. Ugur came to our apartment to choose a carpet to “store” until we can retrieve it. Larry told him it was the first carpet he’d bought in the Covered Bazaar over 35 years ago, and it was old then. Ugur kept asking questions about from whom and the name of the store where Larry bought it. As it evolved, Hasan, Larryz friend and carpet advisor, went to school with Ugur! As a matter of fact, Hasan was Ugur’s mentor in high school and Ugur had Hasan on speed dial! That was a conversation even I could follow.
This was our last day in Urla, and we spent an hour or so participating in a advocacy walk with Esra for domestic violence awareness. Orange is the color of this effort.
Sevim and Kaya Sener – Always there for us.
This couple, whose love story is like a fairy tale, became our very own fairy god mother and elfin god father. Kaya is from this area and knows everyone it seems. He was the first to suggest ice cream at Irmik Hanim last year. And the first to show Larry where the best doner kebab is. My last blog about our experiences in Turkish healthcare is a tribute to their kindness and compassion. We can’t say enough about all the time and effort they made on our behalf, to make our stay here as easy as possible. They are the truest friends.
In case you’re wondering, this is a 5000 piece puzzle they work on together.
The Case of the Faux Garlic Bread
Kaya loved Larryz garlic bread (without garlic since I don’t eat it). So one day this past summer when Sevim’s son, Devren, was visiting from Boston, Larry was coerced into showing the kitchen staff and head cook how to make it. I am surprised she let him into her very nice kitchen. Total transparency; Kaya ate at least half of all the slices.
So good-bye, but maybe not forever, to our home in Turkey. I have left Turkey three other times believing I’d never have the opportunity to return. This visit didn’t last as long as we’d hoped, and we’re going to Virginia with a lot of uncertainly. But we know we will always have someplace to stay whenever we come back. Thank-you all.
Notes: I have at least two more blogs about Turkey, but they will be written from somewhere else. So please keep following Carolz Travelz.
Today was hair salon and seaside walk day. At least it started out that way about 10:00 a.m. But, as often happens with me, I got distracted. This time by the daily fish market.
This is a sea products coop. According to the signs, the sale starts promptly at 11:00 a.m., and it did. You can also have your fish cleaned for a small fee. This is an outdoor market so it is relatively odor free. There is no smoking and is very organized.
I have been present on different days of the week and times of the morning and seen other parts of the process. Today I got to watch from start to finish. And because I still have two more CarolzTravelz blogs to complete before we leave in three days, the fish market will be mostly pictorial.
I started my walk as the last fishing boat was coming in. They fish at night here. Or maybe that’s normal. I expect that some boats are already partnered with wholesalers or restaurants. This fish market sold small quantities, maybe, 5-10 pound batches. Except for some really huge fish, they all were sorted into the same type of bins. Well, the eel just squirmed around on the display platform until it its turn.
The catch arrives in all sorts of containers. Some have been iced down and others just in a bit of water. Some containers are clearly marked for the boat and I guess everyone knows whose container is whose.
Several of the ice chests were well used. Don’t know how long one of these lasts as hard as they are used. Everyone knows this is ‘Mehmet’s’ since it wasn’t marked.
The containers are dumped into a large metal sink and rinsed off. The man in charge, I’ll call him the Director, sorts and weighs each boat’s catch. Don’t know how the prices are fixed; everyday or by whom. The Director determines how many of any given fish are in each bin.
Bins are piled around the stage, mostly stacked, except for exceptional things. The Director is also the main auctioneer. He holds up a bin, says what it is and announces the price and weight. Usually there wasn’t a bidding war. Just “Give it to me,” or Right here,” or “I’ll take it.” If there was a bidding war, it never went beyond one or two raises. Then, “Just give it to her or him.” The bin contents are dumped in plastic bags and the helper collects the cash right then.
I have no idea what these sea creatures are. I recognized an octopus (very extensive) and the eel. One type looked like it was already roasted. In restaurants I know to order Sea Bass or shrimp and that works for me.
As I mentioned, you can have the fish cleaned. The young man scales and does a preliminary gut job and then the older man does a better cleaning. It seemed confusing to remember whose bag of fish they were cleaning, since all bags and most fish look alike, but these guys do it.
The process moves along fairly quickly. Some buyers were there early, like I was. Others just showed up after it had started. Most buyers were men and at least four other folks were taking pictures. They may have been buying for someone else, like a restaurant.
I saw only four cats and one large dog roaming around. Early on a fisherman tossed some small sardines (?) to two of them.
And just so you can get all your meals’ ingredients in one place, there were a couple of guys set up with fresh fruits and veggies, and olives, and lavender, and…
I had to leave at 11:15 to get to my hair appointment, but, at the pace it was going, I’m sure it was done by 11:45. Not bad for 45 minutes of sales. I know from previous visits that the prices go down as folks leave.
The Director had his hands in icy cold water for an hour or so and then had to bend over for most of the sale; challenging work. I was heartened to observe quite a few younger men involved in the fishing industry, both on boats and at the sale.
My selfie attempt. The man behind me with the brown jacket, had just taken his own selfie.
Finally, in case you really didn’t want fish, there was always sheep intestines. This was one street food I just couldn’t try.
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