It had been two years since we lived in a different country and I think we were all itching for a new adventure. We rolled the dice and the winner is Maseru, Lesotho! Haven’t heard of the country? It’s okay, few people have. I have come to the conclusion that it is my job to educate all my family and friends on African geography and this little gem of a country completely surrounded by South Africa.
All in all, our journey to Lesotho was far less eventful than our trip to Italy. When we finally arrived in Italy, we had no luggage, arrived 10 hours later than what we were scheduled, and the only toothpaste we could get our hands on was lemon flavored. Our journey to Maseru was on time, we arrived with all of our luggage, without so much as a delay and we came home to a completely stocked refrigerator inside our new home for the next two years…this was already starting out way better than the last time.
Our first couple of weeks were spent in a state of discovery…learning the ways of the grocery stores and everything that they offer. There are things that we anticipated not being able to find, peanut butter maybe, Stacey chips, salsa…but then I think there were things that we never imagined would be difficult to find, and yet we are realizing we may need to go without -for two years. Ah the joys of an overseas adventure!
So here are the lessons we have learned while living here in Maseru for 3 months:
- “Hot dog sauce” in a yellow container with a big picture of a hot dog on the front is not actually mustard (despite the deceiving appearance).
- “Mustard sauce”, also in a yellow container, despite it’s name is NOT mustard.
- Everyone walks here. Don’t get me wrong, some have cars, but the vast majority do not. People walk miles to get to work, to the store, and to church.
- Since everyone walks everywhere, in the African hot sun, they all have umbrellas and hats. Hats are very big here. Baseball hats, floppy hats, fisherman hats–there is no one “right hat” but the flag of Lesotho has a “mokorotlo” on it which is the traditional Basotho hat and those are very popular. People wear them with great pride. Umbrellas are everywhere, on a bright sunny day at 5 PM, you will see a mass exodus of people walking alongside the highways wearing hats and armed with umbrellas.
- Growing up I realized that my family was always on different schedule than everyone else, we joke, but I came to realize this was ‘Mexican time’. Once we were in Italy we realized that Italian time and Mexican time were very similar. Things started and people arrived just a little later than what was scheduled…Maseru time is very much the same.
- Corn tortillas are a hot commodity to the American community here, I’m pretty sure they carry more value than gold and are just as rare.
- Unlimited internet is not a thing. Everything is on a pre-paid plan and when you run out, you run out. This is true of your phones as well as your WiFi at home.
- Shoes are optional at the shopping malls in South Africa.
- If you thought you understood and appreciated thunderstorms and rain, you soon realize that there is much more to Toto’s song than you ever imagined. The rains in Africa are indeed something to behold.
- Basotho (people of Lesotho) have perfected the art of disseminating media. News headlines are strategically placed alongside the road. Want to know the story? Guess you have to go pick up a newspaper. They have mastered the nuance of teasers.
- Ndate, pronouced “en-dah-tay” means sir and all men are addressed this way. ‘Me, pronounced “may” ,eams ma’am and all woman are addressed this way.
- Living in Lesotho has taught us lessons about living in a society as a minority. In Italy, even though we were from a different country and spoke a different language, we could learn the learn the language, adapt our fashion and try to blend in. In Lesotho, no matter how well we learn the language and adapt our clothing, there is no way to ‘blend’…we still stick out. So the key is learning to accept that everyone will know we are Americans, yet if show respect for their culture, they will surely accept us into their world.
So we have a new neighbor. Turns out they have a daughter that is quite cute and is one grade above munchkin. He was quite eager to take over the cookies I made to personally welcome them to the neighborhood and then invited her to see his room…I’m kinda feelin’ a Winnie Cooper vibe goin’ on here if you know what I’m sayin’.
Winnie Cooper Update:
Munchkin: It’s like I can’t even wait to go to the bus stop.
Me: Really? That wouldn’t have anything to do with the new company at the bus stop would it?
Munchkin: Mom,she is so cool, she doesn’t even like girl stuff, it’s so weird.
Me: What is “girl stuff”?
Munchkin: I dunno most girls cover their phones in purple and pink and glitter…do you know what she has on her phone?
Me: No, what?
Munchkin: Minecraft! How cool is that! She’s pretty, she’s smart AND she plays video games, I didn’t know girls like that existed!
Another Winnie Cooper Update:
So, it’s raining here in the district. Headed to the bus stop, munchkin took two of his old umbrellas, a Superman one for him and a Batman one for Winnie. It took everything in me not to hide behind the bushes and snap a picture, it was too freaking adorable. Cynthia Ramos Cisneros I was thinking of the photo you snapped from behind the bushes of your high schooler on his first day of school!
The Winnie Cooper Story continues with one round of video game playing, one round of bike riding, and dinner at the Coopers! … Of course mom’s stalking continues…is it wrong that I am enjoying this so much?
And for your Halloween episode of the Winnie Cooper Chronicles…
Rob: (laying garbage bag on kitchen floor) Okay, buddy, are you ready to carve your pumpkin?
Munchkin: Uh, why don’t we carve them on the deck, Dad
Rob: Uh, okay.
Munchkin: (carrying pumpkin and feigning surprise as to who is out on her deck) Oh, hi!
Kevin Arnold quote of the day:
Me: How was your day?
Munchkin: I’m just saying, if a girl asks you to watch scary movie YouTube video clips with her, you should always say yes. That is the easiest way to get her to hold your hand when she gets scared.
So yesterday I joked that all the windows were down because I almost burned the house down (I mean there actually was a little mishap, but that is a story for another day)…to which munchkin replied, “That’s not even funny! If you burned down the house, then we would have to move and we would get NEW neighbors!”
So glad my kid has his priorities straight. Sigh.
An “almost” Winnie Catastrophe!
Munchkin came home on Friday with the most despondent look on his face.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” as he shrugged his book bag and coat off onto the floor (in front of the coat rack, I might add)
“Really? Because you look like your pet just died.”
“She sat with someone else.”
“Who did?” Come on mom! As if anyone else in the world even matters to this guy.
“I gave her this look as I was passing her sitting with him and all she said was, ‘I’m sorry,’ so I went and sat by myself. Then, when the bus stopped, I just walked straight off the bus and didn’t even wait for her.”
Ouch. Man, a woman’s scorn doesn’t come close to THIS kid!
So all weekend, we had the hypothetical questions being thrown around, “What would you do?” “Why would she do that?” “Do you think she’s mad at me?” along with the sulking and the constant checking of the phone.
And then Sunday happened. The phone rings! Alleluia, the phone rings. A quick trip to the balcony and happiness is restored. “So, she sat by him because I was late to the bus!! She thought I wasn’t riding! She invited me over! Everything is fine! Can I go over?”
And today it’s back to packing the mad libs and trivia books into the book bag to do on the bus together (thanks Uncle Matt) All is right in the world again.
So there’s been a lot happening in my family, so forgive me for my lack of Winnie Cooper updates, but today was monumental.
I was reviewing his day as we always do. How did the Science test go? What homework do you have? Did anything remarkable happen today? (Which believe it or not is a routine question I ask) It took me a moment to realize, despite the fact that munchkin was answering, he wasn’t quite “all there.”
“So I just did it.”
“You did what.”
“I told her.”
“You told who, what?”
“I told [Winnie] that I liked her.”
“Whoa! You like [Winnie]?”
“Very funny mom.”
“Well what did she say?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean, you’re not sure?”
“She said, that she had a feeling and then she asked if it would be okay if she told her mom? I told her that I’m pretty sure her mom already knows. Do you think that’s a good thing?”
“Hmm, I don’t know, what do you think?”
“Not sure…I’m just relieved to have told her.”
So this weekend’s dinner with the “Coopers” will either be incredibly awkward or will be the best holiday ever for one munchkin.
And just like your favorite tv shows, we took a winter hiatus, but the Winnie Cooper Chronicles are back!
Before break, munchkin updated us with his conversation with Winnie after his big reveal. “She said, ‘I like you, and obviously we are more than friends, but I’m not really ready to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Can we still hang out and stuff?’ ”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“Didn’t you hear me? She said, “Obviously, we’re more than friends!”
Sounds like both of us were content with Winnie’s answer.
Fast forward to last night…
Munchkin had a very special Pokemon stuffed animal and card set delivered to Winnie’s house directly since we wouldn’t be here for Christmas. Last night, he was invited to go hang out and for dinner.
When he came home he was carrying a gift box. “What’s in the box?”
“Oh, just my present from [Winnie].”
“So what did she get you?”
“It’s weird, they’re just clothes, they aren’t themed or anything, they aren’t related to me in any way shape or form. I don’t know what to think!”
“Well, they seem nice. What did she think of your gift that you gave her?”
“Oh, she looooved it!”
“Really, how do you know?”
“She screamed, ‘I loooove it, thank you!’ and then she hugged me for at least ten Mississippis!”
What a fun little surprise package from our friends in Japan! ThanksVanessa Alaniz Lee Japanese Pokemon cards should help munchkin ensure he rocks Winnie’s Valentines Day this year!
Who knows? It may just be a cliff hanger to this season, but Valentines Day turned out to be a little bit of a heartbreak from one Winnie Cooper. You would have never known it from the first two days of the weekend with exchanges of sweets and Pokemon cards and over an hour on the phone (a first). But last night after spending the evening at the neighbors, he came home with “Girls Suck!” Looks like she’s really starting to focus on high school plans. We’ll see what happens next season. Hard to see the munchkin so bummed.
The Winnie Chronicles return!
Conversation last night:
“So where’s munchkin?”
“He went for a walk with [Winnie].”
“So how was your walk?”
“Good, really good. We talked about how nervous we were thinking about kissing someone for the first time.”
Soooo, that was interesting.
The Winnie Cooper Roller Coaster
Munchkin called me from the bus in the morning to let me know he got on the bus safely:
“Mom, I’m on the bus.” (Sounding down)
“I don’t know, I think [Winnie’s] mad at me.”
“Why do you think that?”
“She’s acting weird and she’s not really talking to me.”
“Why don’t you ask her what’s wrong?”
“Yeah, maybe I will.”
“Are you still staying to see her choir concert after school.”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know.”
Voicemail left on my phone: “Mom, I don’t know what’s going on, she’s mad at me but I don’t know why and so I’m not staying after school.”
Voicemail left 1 hour later:
“Mom, I think things are okay, I changed my mind, I’m staying after school and will ride the late bus.”
Munchkin comes home on the late bus:
“So how was the concert?”
“It was fine. I just don’t get girls! So, [Winnie] and I got to an argument about gay rights yesterday so I thought that’s what she was mad about, but she said she wasn’t mad about that, it was something else but she didn’t want to talk about it. So she’s okay now. (Heavy sigh) I just don’t get her! What is wrong with your kind?!”
Rob: Buddy, you’ll be trying to figure that out your whole life.”
Munchkin: “So Ms. [Cooper] (Winnie’s mom) stopped me on my way into the house today and asked if everything was alright, because it seemed like [Winnie] had been a little moody lately. …Ha! You don’t know the half of it sister!”
“You didn’t say that did you?!”
“Of course not, I just said, ‘Yeah, I’ve noticed’ but I didn’t know why, but I wanted to say that!”
As we suspected, Italy has proven to be the source for more adventures than we could have ever imagined. Perhaps the most exciting time of year in Italy was Carnivale, the final days before Lent begins. Learning how the different regions and communities celebrated, proved to be some of the most fun experiences. Nothing could have prepared us for what is known to those from Ivrea, Italy as the Battaglia delle Arance (Battle of the Oranges).
Carnevale Di Ivrea pays homage to an ancient uprising between the town’s villagers and its tyrant leader and his guards. As the story goes, back in the 1800s, a civil war broke out between the townsfolk of Ivrea and the Royal Napoleanic Troops, led by the hated tyrant Raineri di Biandrate.
It’s said that di Biandrate tried to rape the daughter of a local miller on the eve of her wedding. Things got ugly and the daughter ended up decapitating the tyrant. His troops then tried to take the town by force as an act of retaliation, and the people revolted using stones and other crude weapons and eventually drove the soldiers out.
Today, participants trade slings and arrows for oranges. There are nine teams, one group who dresses up in armor to represent the old guards, and even a young woman selected to represent Violetta, the mugnaia,(the miller’s daughter) who sparked the whole revolution.
Everything wraps up with a grim funeral procession to “mourn” those lost in battle, and, well, a lot of orange-sized bruises.
So, upon arrival to the festivities, what does one see? The first thing you are bound to notice is the sea of red. Even as we left our car, those who are walking towards the town are all donning an unmistakable red cap. Violetta and the crowd wear long, bright red, Phrygian hats symbolizing freedom. They come from far away. They’re called berretti di Frigia or berretti frigi, from the ancient area of Phrygia, in what is now Turkish Anatolia. They used to be worn by the worshippers of the sun. They were then worn, in ancient Rome, by emancipated slaves and finally became one of the symbols of the French Revolution: the red bonnet meant Liberté. When you walk around with a red hat in Ivrea, people say you’re wearing the berretto frigio and therefore you must be free to pass unharmed. The red hat means you won’t be throwing oranges and therefore, no one will throw oranges at you. If you’re near the battle areas (even if you’re behind the protective nets) you’ll still get orange shrapnel, but no direct hits. So to Ben’s disappointment, seeking out one of the “red hat selling kiosks”, became our first mission. Despite the majority of caps available being the traditional style, Ben was delighted to find he could maintain his own fashion statement.
As we continued to walk towards the town, the next thing we noticed were oranges. Oranges…oranges…and more oranges! Dried oranges, drinks made of oranges, desserts made from oranges and then row after row, stacks of crate after crate of blood red oranges! We were in the right place, that’s for certain. There were approximately 11 different stations and each was bearing the banner of two of the dueling teams. There was still time before the slaughter was to begin and so we proceeded to the town center to witness the serving of the “Fagioli grassi di Ivrea”-bowls of beans that are handed out to all those who come to witness the festivities!
The orange part of the Ivrea carnival is relatively new – prior to the nineteenth century beans were used. These beans were given to Piedmont and Ivrean peasants by the local lords and as a sign of disrespect the peasants used to throw them back.
The introduction of oranges to the whole thing has definitely added a whole new dimension. The beans are still about and are remembered in the tradition of handing out free bean dishes on the day to all and sundry. This dish, an old Piedmont peasant staple, known as fagioli grassi, is delicious.
It is made by the townsfolk in vast quantities and in huge cauldrons from Saturday night. It consists of a tasty mix of beans, sausages and bacon rind.
After the serving of the beans, the teams can be seen around the town, “suiting up” with padding, helmets and uniforms. Horse drawn carts with each team began racing by as they headed to their appointed starting points and we knew the time was near. We started walking through the town to pick out where we wanted to witness this spectacle. Each courtyard had varying viewpoints. Some completely exposed, others out their windows had the distinct pleasure of having a great view but being too high to be vulnerable to stray flying oranges, and then finally there was the area behind the netting. This is similar to the netting they use at baseball games to protect the audience from fly balls coming from home plate, but not nearly as effective (which we found out a little too late). We found our place behind the netting, but still giving us a great view of the piazza. There are some announcements made, people settled in and the process for us went something like this: 1. watch the horse pulled cart arrive with the first team to the right of us, watch as they put helmets on, come through and attack the team right in front of us during which we had to take cover. 2. As they drove passed we try to take pictures while still dodging flying oranges 3. Prepare for the next team to drive through from the other side who was close enough to get some good shots but be quick enough to take cover before they started attacking. As the carts move into the piazzas the teams waiting for them in the squares and the lunatics on the carts themselves go absolutely mad, hurling oranges at each other like demented maniacs. It was utter insanity!
Rob ended up with the biggest “orange souvenir” in the form of bright red cheek, as he was unable to avoid a whole orange hitting the side of his face. Munchkin and I would continue to find chucks of orange in just about every nook and cranny of our clothing, but at least we smelled good right? When we thought the battles had all ended, we courageously headed out from behind the netted curtain and waded through the grossness that is now a sludge of smashed oranges and what I am certain had to be horse manure. There is chatter and laughing as we recount the exciting activity …until Rob and I hear the familiar sounds of another team coming through. Our eyes meet and then widened, as we both realized that we were about to be in the path of another round. We immediately grabbed Ben and found our way as quickly as possible through the crowd and trying our best not to slip and fall as we sloshed around in orange sludge. As we escaped, our adventure in Ivrea came to an end. Next up…we finally get to see Da Vinci’s Last supper!
Devastated. The heart beat increasing. The tears welling up in the eyes. That was me, the day my son found out that the person who brought him presents for the past 10 years of his life was not in fact a big man in a red suit.
So let’s go back a little. When Rob and I talked about our plans for a family, we had decided quite a lot before the birth of our child as to how we would raise them, what we would say, and our thoughts on pretty much everything. We decided that no matter how difficult or awkward conversations would become, we would always tell our children the truth. There were a couple exceptions, but for the most part we were agreed that we would make it clear that our kids could always come to us for a straight answer and we would give it to them. Those small exceptions included figuring out the role beloved mythological characters would have in our children’s lives. We both agreed that the hardest part about reconciling the truth behind these enduring childhood characters was as kids once we figured out the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, everything else kind of unraveled. So we decided early on that we wouldn’t really push the other two so we would really have a fighting chance to play out the role of Santa for as long as possible.
So when he was old enough to understand we heavily focused on what we believe to be the true meaning and importance of Easter. In our faith, we believe as Christians that Easter is a celebration and remembrance of the day Christ was resurrected, three days after dying for our sins. In addition, we told Ben that there was an Easter Bunny. We explained that the Easter Bunny helped out children’s parents who couldn’t afford or were unable to fill their Easter baskets by doing it for them, but that we were able to, so we filled his Easter Basket. This seemed all well and good until my sister’s family was coming to visit us in DC. They had been financially struggling that year. Ben’s cousins had told him that their parents had said that the Easter Bunny might only be able to bring a few things for their Easter baskets. Our son of course felt the need to reassure them by saying, “No, you won’t even have to worry about it, the Easter Bunny will take care of everything. When parents don’t have enough money, the Easter Bunny takes care of everyone. It will be fine.”
Well, there you go! That was our first lesson in many, that to parent one child can often mean you are parenting many without even meaning it.
Then came the next challenge, but in my defense I think I was bamboozled!
I’m sure every child presents his or her parents with some fantastic challenges to keep the magic alive and my son was no exception. Why should he be? I know Rob had asked for a real life reindeer when he was a kid, why should Ben be any different.
Some of those parent challenges include Ben’s second year of taking a photo with Santa Claus at the mall. He was deathly afraid of the man in the red suit. We actually had to do a dress rehearsal! We took Ben over to Santa and he cried. We tried a second time, where Santa introduced himself. Ben seemed good until we tried to sit him on Santa’s lap. Once again, he started screaming and crying. The next time Santa talked to Ben as we walked by, called him by name, and asked him what he wanted for Christmas, but we didn’t even try to sit with Santa on that day. Finally after 4 rehearsal runs, Ben was ready to sit on his lap. Whew!
There was the year that Ben was intent on getting a Santa Claus action figure. When asked if he had seen one in the stores he responded, “Oh no, but it’s not a problem, because Santa has his own workshop. He can just MAKE one, don’cha know?”
Then there was the year he was especially particular in who he could divulge his list, “I know that the Santa I take pictures with is only a Santa helper, but I am going to check his ears to make sure he is a REAL Santa elf before I tell him anything!”
Nothing could prepare us for the year Rob was in Afghanistan, when Ben created his list for Santa just like he had done every year but topping his list prominently stated his wish for a baby brother. Aside from the obvious barriers preventing us from even trying to make Ben’s wishes come true, we had to figure out how to let him know that Santa just couldn’t grant him his number one wish. After much deliberation we decided a letter was the best route to go, and to go along with current technology, Santa sent Ben an email. Santa had explained that decisions about having children are solely to be made by moms and dads and God and that was not something he was able to give Ben for Christmas. Ben seemed satisfied with the response and was twice as excited to have obtained Santa Claus’s email! This of course would have been parenting mistake number #743, since it never occurred to me that I should probably check on the email for subsequent messages. It wasn’t until Ben mentioned in passing, “It’s funny I wrote a message awhile ago to Santa but he hasn’t written back.” I nonchalantly explained that perhaps he was busy gearing up for next year or maybe he took a vacation. Then I let a couple of days pass and of course diligently went to work on responding to my son’s emails to Santa.
Little did I know that the email from Santa was Ben’s turning point, that was his boost in Christmas spirit. The email was his weapon of choice to those kids on the bus who were trying to dissuade his faith in Santa Claus.
So fast forward just a little bit, the past couple of years confronted us as parents with so many new subjects to tackle. So many questions about relationships, puberty, and of course sex had crept into and laced our conversations since our arrival to Italy. We have handled them all in the same manner that we had agreed to many moons ago, with as much straightforward honesty that we could muster. I’d like to think that this trend will convince Ben that he can in fact come to us for anything and we will always give him the straight answer.
Now when it came to the subject of Christmas, I was able to pivot around the subject and manipulate in such a way that I wasn’t really lying but pretty much much walking the line. Rob, on the other hand, will profess that he too wanted to keep the magic going, but there was that small nagging part of his brain that felt defeated by the fact that the big guy had always gotten credit for all the cool gifts that he had spent so much of his time seeking out and finding. Much like a snag in sweater that starts out small, but with little effort unravels into a giant mess, I anticipated that I could not leave Rob alone with a snag. He wanted to tell the secret, but he would keep it as long as he needed to …or until presented with a snag.
This brings us to the present. We were on a summer vacation enjoying the luxury of lying by the poolside on our cruise ship. Jenny and I were sitting in our lounge chairs and Rob and Ben had gone swimming in the pools and soaking in the hot tub. If I could erase that moment I would. Ben came toward me, red puffy swollen eyes, clearly he had been crying or was about to and I thought, “Oh no, he got into trouble.”
He simply collapsed into my arms saying, “Dad said that Santa isn’t real,” and he began to sob.
I felt my heart sink, I gasped. I looked up helplessly locking eyes with Rob.
“I didn’t say he wasn’t real buddy!” Rob said.
Through tears at this point, “Yes, you did,” he argued, “I asked you if Santa was real. You said, ‘Do you want to know the truth?'”
“No, you said, ‘Dad, you always promised to tell me the truth, so I really want to know, is Santa real?’ I said, There was a man named Saint Nicholas. He was a real person and he was a good man. He did some really great things and they made him a saint, but he is no longer alive so we keep his spirit alive through Santa Claus.”
“Right, you said, Santa isn’t real!”
Rob closed his eyes and hung his head, he knew there was no winning. I mean, how could there be a winner in this conversation. Ben wanted to know the truth, he really wanted to know the answers, but the fact of the matter is he wanted the truth to be that there was a Santa Claus. He wanted there to still be the magic. On that warm July afternoon, his world had changed just a little bit. As I held a crying boy in my arms, I realized all of our worlds changed a little bit that day. Now it was our job to show him that the magic still can live on, but for these next couple of months before Christmas, I have a feeling things are going to be a little difficult.
My time in Italy has been an ongoing revitalization of my faith. I know that I never really lost it, but I never imagined that these sites I have seen and experiences that I have been afforded would inspire me and move me in such a deep and powerful way. Being American, we come from such a young country that even the oldest landmarks are hundreds of years younger than it’s European counterparts. As amazing as it is to walk through a theatre that was built in the 17th century or walk though a tunnel that was built in the early 1800’s, it is the places I thought only existed in the Bible that I heard about when I was a little girl that have truly moved me. I think when you are young and you hear stories about a little Jewish girl who lived through the Holocaust or an amazing structure called the Eiffel Tower in someplace called Paris, you never imagine that you might one day visit her house or go up to the top of that structure. So when you have the opportunity of a lifetime to do just that, it is humbling and breathtaking.
For me, that feeling is multiplied by a thousand when it is seeing something from the stories I have heard all my life. I say stories because that’s what they were, just stories. Until they weren’t. Until they came to life. Until I was seeing them with my own eyes.
I like to pride myself as not being naive, as not believing everything I am told. I was raised to question things…to get to the truth. It all probably started when we went to visit the city of Turin. Here, they have what is called the Shroud of Turin. The linen is thought to bear the image of Jesus of Nazareth. The burial shroud purports to show the imprint of the face and body of a bearded man. The image also purportedly shows nail wounds at the man’s wrist and pinpricks around his brow, consistent with the “crown of thorns” mockingly pressed onto Christ at the time of his crucifixion. There has been much debate between scientists and theologians, in fact the Catholic Church has never rejected nor endorsed the shroud. But as we watched the video of the testing that the cloth has undergone and the image that is seen on the cloth, I couldn’t control the involuntary reactions my body had. My heart quickened, my stomach turned, and I got goosebumps on my arms. My brain was telling me, “this might not be what they claim it is,” but my heart was telling me all I need to know. Floods of images popped into my head. I pictured a man being beaten beyond what any human should ever have to go through. I remembered how I sobbed watching the Passion of Christ, because my heart broke for a mother that was watching her flesh and blood, her only son, enduring such pain. I remembered the words of Jesus to Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” I thought to myself, “Who am I to see, and still not believe?” I am looking at the cloth that Jesus was wrapped in before he rose from the dead! Months later, Pope Francis is quoted as saying, “This image, impressed upon the cloth, speaks to our heart,”and I couldn’t agree more.
The following year, when my mom and dad came to visit us we took them to Istanbul, Turkey. Among the many beautiful
sites, we came across an item in the Topkapi Palace labeled, “Moses’s Staff”. We were floored. Could it be? Could Moses’s staff be here in Turkey? Why don’t people make a bigger deal about it? I came to the conclusion, there is just as much a chance that this staff belonged to Moses and it was found here in Turkey, a land very much frequented by those in the bible, as anywhere else in the world. Does it matter? Or is it the mere fact that at that one moment both my heart and head were remembering what a loyal and devout follower Moses had proven to be? I choose to believe that it could have been Moses’s staff encased in glass at the Topkapi Palace that day.
As I’ve already described previously in my blog, the thoughts and feelings I experienced when the Pope was selected was nothing short of a spiritual apex, a joining of my childhood, my faith, and my familial connections. My Christianity runs deep within my veins, more so than I ever imagined.
Next, came the opportunity to walk the Scala Santa in Rome. It is said to be the staircase that
Jesus walked up in Pontius Pilate’s palace in Jerusalem. It was brought to Rome by St Helena in the 4th century, and is considered so sacred that you can only climb it on your knees, saying a prayer on each of the 28 steps. All three of us, descended to our knees and climbed the stairs. The stairs themselves are marble, but are covered with a wood set. There is a slit in the wood of each “rise”
(the part of the stair that faces forward) where you can both touch and see the original marble. It is here that pilgrims have left their prayers and petitions in between the marble and the wood. Many placed their fingers on the exposed marble and then touched their lips, so as to kiss the steps. Once arising at the top many kissed the marble left open through
the wood at the landing. Again, this time of prayer and reflection brings me to a time where one man was sentenced to die and be crucified and my heart swelled with love for my family and loved ones as well as sorrow for a man who sacrificed his life so that I might know the the joy of forgiveness.
Most recently we traveled to Kusadasi, Turkey where we took a very short drive that brought us to the home of the Virgin Mary. It is an intriguing story. Before Christ was crucified he said to Mary and John, “Woman behold your son and to John behold your mother.” (John 19:25-27) Because it is known that John then traveled to what is now Turkey and was later buried there, it is assumed that he would have taken Mary with him. During her lifetime, a girl by the name of Anne Catherine Emmerich shared visions that she had, among them were her talking to Jesus and others were of what she believed to be Mary’s house. She had never been to the land that is now Turkey and the city of Ephesus and its surrounding area had yet to be excavated, but she described in great detail this home and its location. While the Catholic Church has never taken an official position of authenticity, several Popes have visited the site and it is treated as a shrine. Anne Catherine Emmerich has since been beatified in 2004 by Pope John Paul II.
As we approached the site, one needs only to look at the extensive line of pilgrims that come daily to this house to know that in their heart they know that this must be the home of the Virgin Mary. Outside the shrine is a particular “wishing wall” which pilgrims have used by tying their personal intentions on paper or fabric. Various types of florals and fruits are grown nearby, and additional lighting has been installed within the vicinity of the shrine for further monitoring of the site. A water fountain or well is also located
nearby, believed by some pilgrims to have miraculous powers of healing or fertility. So we reverently walked through this home, drank from the well and prayed for those who left their intentions on the wall and thought of the woman who had lost her child, the woman who followed the Lord’s calling and the mother of our faith.
It is almost like a culmination in our journey here in Italy that we figure out our plans for our next major adventure. This Christmas we will visit the Holy Land! We will be in Bethlehem to visit the Nativity Church and walk the sacred ground. As a family we have begun our serious refresher study of the Bible so that it will all be in our mind. We got a youth Bible, which is very cool because it is different from the other children’s bibles I’ve seen. This isn’t just a collection of parables, it is the full Bible written in a way that a younger audience needs to understand, heck sometimes so that we adults can understand. We keep going back to maps and seeing what cities they are talking about and realizing, WE ARE GOING THERE! There are references to bodies of waters that we will actually see. We are all learning new things and remembering old things. This is just the beginning of the journey of a lifetime, a journey in faith. I know there will be so many more stories to tell and pictures to share.
It was no secret, Pope Benedict announced his resignation to the world, therefore a conclave would convene in order to select a new Pope. What were the chances that we would have the opportunity to sit for a Papal Audience and then have the opportunity to see a new one chosen in our lifetime? Moreover, who imagined that I would be living in Italy at the time it all took place?
Many of my friends had been talking about the possibility of going, but it was all about logistics…How would we get there? How long could we stay? Should we drive? Where would we park? We discussed lots of scenarios but couldn’t put any plan into action until the date of the conclave to begin was set. As the deadline grew closer, news and radio began to report that cardinals were slowly beginning to arrive to the Vatican. Then it was set. The conclave would begin on March 12, 2013. And so the research began.
No Pope has ever been selected on the first vote. So we believed we were safe in waiting until at least Wednesday, though no matter what history says, it WAS a gamble. Then we realized that if any of us were going to be able to try and make it to Rome even if for just a day trip, we had to have a back-up plan for getting someone to watch our kids (little did we know just how important that would prove to be). Obstacle number one: all four of our husbands work at the Joint Forces Command for NATO here in Naples. Beginning Tuesday, there was a mandatory exercise that they were engaged in that potentially would bring them home from work late. This narrowed our choices. Rob said he would do whatever he could to try to help me out so that I could try to go. He rocks, doesn’t he? So we kept going back and forth between Wednesday and Thursday. Whatever we chose was a crapshoot, what and when it would happen was anybody’s guess. Obstacle number 2 for me: I had scheduled 2 appointments for that day, a physical therapy appointment for Wednesday morning that normally takes 3-4 weeks to get in and so I didn’t want to cancel the appointment and a pedicure that could easily be re-scheduled. I decided that if the girls decided on Wednesday, I was going to have to pass. I just knew that in order to even make the trip worthwhile they would have to leave early and I didn’t want hold anybody up. As of Tuesday night, they hadn’t decided. Wednesday morning, I went to my appointment and it was excellent, we seemed to have been able to pinpoint my knee pain problem and I was in and out in no time at all! (Very uncommon for a military doctor appointment) So I sat in the parking lot afterwards and texted my friends.
“What did you guys decide?”
“We R on our way to Capo now …meeting Dawn at Alibus. Can u come?” Capo is short for Capodicchino, the naval base right outside Naples Airport. So they were parking their cars on base and walking to catch a bus to the train station to Rome!
I texted back, “Just leaving Support Site now, finished with my appointment.”
“Come on!! We’ll wait for you!” they texted back.
“You guys go ahead…so exciting!”
“We can wait for you! Come on…we are all headed that way!”
A million thoughts were running through my head. This is crazy! I have made no plans. This could be history in the making. These are some of my favorite gal pals and there is no one I would rather experience this with if it happens. Holding my cell in my hands, I look down at what I am wearing, because remember I just went to a physical therapy appointment, and I text, “I am in sweats and I have no camera!”
“We have cameras and we promise to only take pics of the waist up!” I smiled to myself, I have the BEST FRIENDS EVER! Before I had a chance to text back, I got a phone call.
“You are coming!! Just hang up and meet us in front of the bus!” And there you have it, I was on my way to the Vatican City in the hopes of seeing the next Pope selected.
We all met in front of the busses, when a taxi pulled up next to us and offered us a ride. Man, little did we know how much this one taxi driver was going to kick off our memories of such a fantastic adventure. His name was Anthony. He sang Beyonce to entertain us, he was so excited for us and couldn’t believe that we were actually going to Rome to see “Il Papa” right then. He even offered to be our chauffeur all day on our adventure, but we thought it best to stick to our plan and go ahead to the train station, but he sure did make us laugh.
So we took the train from Naples to Rome and a taxi to St. Peter’s. As we arrived around 10:30 AM, we noticed large masses of people walking towards us; heads hung low and disappointed looks in their faces. It was obvious, and we were so bummed that we were so close to seeing the smoke and “just missed it.” Determined to make the most of it, we snapped a few shots of the pool of cameras and crews, the patriots and their flags of every country you could imagine, and of course, of the famous steeple that would emit the black or white smoke.
It wasn’t long before news crews picked up on the fact that we were clearly speaking American English and asked to interview us. One camera crew held up a sign, “Are you from Chicago? Come talk to us!” That was our first, Sonya was interviewed by an affiliate and it was all very exciting! Next, there was a DC station, one from Miami, and one from Boston.
Then we had to strategize. The original plan was to come into Rome and be home around 4:30. You know, it’s amazing how when no one knows the correct information about something how many versions of the facts you get. One “seemingly” knowing tour guide explained that since the next vote was at 2 PM, the smoke should be sometime after that. So the plan became: eat lunch from a vendor alongside the plaza, get in place to see the smoke and then head home afterwards. It would be cutting it close but it was possible. So we ate our panini and stashed some snacks in a bag and proceeded to the desired spot, which just so happened to be front row! We were so naïve! So we started lining up our back up plans, making sure kids were taken care of and alerting the hubbies to the fact that we might be home a little later than expected. As the 2 o’clock hour came and went, we waited. …And we waited…and waited and then it started to rain. As the rain continued to test our steadfastness, we started to get “different information”. We were told that 4:30 PM was the magic hour, and while that was in fact true, there was some missing information but we wouldn’t learn that until later. Obstacles began to arise when we tried to phone our husbands and let them know that as soon as the 4:30 smoke came out we would board the next train home. As people began to fill up the piazza again, the cell phone towers were maxed out. It was a little reminiscent of 9/11 and the 2009 Inauguration. So we couldn’t text, we couldn’t call, we couldn’t receive calls, and we were at the front of this mass of people and were not about to lose our place as we were so close to the 4:30 hour. Then our Italian tutor came along, his name was Giuseppe. He explained that yes, it is true there would be a vote at 4:30 PM, but if a pope was not selected on that vote they would proceed to the next ballot before releasing the smoke. So, here is what we learned: there are indeed 4 votes, 2 in the morning and 2 in the afternoon, but the smoke is only released twice. If a super majority is not found with the first of the morning votes, another vote is immediately taken. If the 2nd vote of the day does not result in the election of the Pope, than the ballots are combined and you will see black smoke. That is what happened.
So when the afternoon vote came, the first one was unsuccessful, so they took a second vote immediately, and that is when the magic happened!
Meanwhile, out in the Piazza, around 4:30 news crews began uncovering their cameras that were set up directly in front of the fence where we stood. The rain began to come down and we realized that we were in it for the long haul. So there we stood in place from approximately 11:30 AM.
Then something happened, I can’t help but think it was something akin to mass hypnosis as we stared at the steeple just to the right of the Basilica and on top of the Sistine Chapel, hoping and praying for smoke. Any smoke, just smoke. More people filled the piazza, the rain came down harder, and we all became paranoid observers. “Was that light on?” “Did you see a shadow walk by that window?” “Look, they moved that curtain!” “Somebody’s peeking out of that window up there! Could that mean something?” This meant that any time there was a change in the scenery the crowd freaked out. When the Jumbotrons came on, the crowd cheered. Little did we know that the Jumbotrons would continue to be up for hours before it showed anything remarkable, but there were a few events that we did see before the smoke. A bird settling on the steeple seemed undeterred and sat there for quite a while. That certainly woke up the crowd, especially when he pooped for the entire world to see. Then about an hour later, there was a huge flock of birds that seemed to swarm around the steeple. I t looked a little like a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, but it was still something new to look at.
We became good friends with those around us. We met Giuseppe, the Italian tutor, and Lynette the German girl who had traveled by herself to Rome to experience the election. There was a pilgrimage group from the States that had booked their trip last October when no one in the world knew that a new Pope would be elected this week. Can you imagine? You book a trip 5 months ago, for a Catholic pilgrimage that includes Assisi and Rome and instead you learn you will witness the election of the next Pope?! Our friends had been there for the first vote and explained that they were thrown for a curve because the smoke appeared white at first and then “turned” black. If nothing else we will be sure to exchange pictures with each other online.
And then it happened, it was about 7:15 PM, we had been standing in one place for over 8 hours, bending our bodies in half just to stretch out our strained lower backs and it appeared. I don’t know about my friends, but when I saw it, I had in the back of my head what the others had said about thinking it looked white at first but turning to black, so I was apprehensive. But it WAS white, and it was staying white and people were cheering and singing and shouting and crying!! Oh my gosh, it’s white, it’s white, this is it! This is really it! The smoke is white and I am here to see it!! I cannot believe this…and then the bells started to ring! We had been told that the bells would ring so as to eliminate any confusion about color, and they were ringing! This was really happening! People were hugging and praying and all I could think of is how badly I wanted my mom and dad and family with me to experience this amazing thing, it was history in the making.
So now what? Well, Giuseppe explained to us that they now had 50 minutes to announce who the Pope is. This would mean, announcing the elected Pope to the conclave, having him actually accept the position, and then changing his clothes from that of a cardinal to the Pope. So for 50 more minutes we stood waiting for them to introduce the new Pope to the world. People took turns screaming, chanting, singing and the news cameras that were continuously scanning the crowd riled up the energy and excitement over and over.
Just a little past 8 o’clock, the bands started to enter the Piazza del San Pietro (St. Peter’s Plaza) and position themselves on the steps of the Basilica. The lights in each of the rooms that surrounds the Pope’s balcony lit up and the Cardinals came out of 4 different rooms onto their balconies and the crowd went crazy! Giuseppe just kept saying, “Wait until they open the curtain…wait until the curtain.” Then the curtain was pulled back and the excitement swelled. The crowd began to push forward, everyone was dying to know. A very elaborate and ornate cloth was spread over the balcony edge. Then they announced it, Argentine Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio was to become the first Latin Pope and the first to use the name Francesco. Pope Francesco I was introduced to the world! It’s then that I got chills and realized that I would have given anything to have had my Grandma Sanchez experience this with me. So many memories of her tears when I handed her a blessed rosary from Pope John Paul II flooded my head. It was electrifying to be in this crowd. Chanting ringing throughout the city, “Viva Il Papa…Viva Il Papa…Viva Il Papa!” Then they closed the curtain and the custom is that the people invite the Pope to come and speak to them. The words swelled from the audience, “Francesco, Francesco, Francesco”. It was kind of sing songy, like the way you speak to a child. The curtains parted again and he stepped forward before the world for the first time. There was quite the fanfare as the cardinals presented his vestments and he put them on. He spoke to the audience in Italian and offered a blessing.
“Brothers and sisters, good evening!
You know that it was the duty of the Conclave to give Rome a Bishop. It seems that my brother Cardinals have gone to the ends of the earth to get one… but here we are… I thank you for your welcome. The diocesan community of Rome now has its Bishop. Thank you! And first of all, I would like to offer a prayer for our Bishop Emeritus, Benedict XVI. Let us pray together for him, that the Lord may bless him and that Our Lady may keep him.
(Our Father… Hail Mary… Glory Be… )
And now, we take up this journey: Bishop and People. This journey of the Church of Rome which presides in charity over all the Churches. A journey of fraternity, of love, of trust among us. Let us always pray for one another. Let us pray for the whole world, that there may be a great spirit of fraternity. It is my hope for you that this journey of the Church, which we start today, and in which my Cardinal Vicar, here present, will assist me, will be fruitful for the evangelization of this most beautiful city.
And now I would like to give the blessing, but first — first I ask a favor of you: before the Bishop blesses his people, I ask you to pray to the Lord that he will bless me: the prayer of the people asking the blessing for their Bishop. Let us make, in silence, this prayer: your prayer over me.
Now I will give the Blessing to you and to the whole world, to all men and women of good will. (Blessing)
Brothers and sisters, I leave you now. Thank you for your welcome. Pray for me and until we meet again. We will see each other soon. Tomorrow I wish to go and pray to Our Lady, that she may watch over all of Rome. Good night and sleep well!”
When he was through, he turned around and exited the balcony and for a moment time seemed to stand still. Everyone was smiling and had this kind of glow, this realization that they had just experienced a piece of history, heck even the security guards were smiling.
We had done it, we took a total gamble and shot out to Rome and had witnessed the election of the next Pope. It was almost 9 PM when we finally departed the piazza and headed for the station. We grabbed fast food and hopped on the first train heading home, our legs, back, and feet throbbing and stiff and we were exhausted, but had smiles plastered to our faces. Nothing could keep us from smiling and laughing and sharing memories of having witnessed one of the most historical events of our lives.
On November 20, 2012 my parents endeavored to take on an overseas trip for the very first time ever in their lives! It was exciting and nerve-wrecking all at the same time. My Dad had been on a total of one round trip flight and my mom has NEVER been on a plane. I wanted everything to go smoothly and as uneventful as possible. Of course I wanted it to go well because it was their first trip overseas, but I had other reasons up my sleeve as well. Months before, I had been inspired to not only show my parents the country of Italy that I have come to call home for the past 18 months, but I wanted to take them to a brand new country that none of us had been to either! I decided to take my family to Turkey for Turkey Day! My friends in Naples thought I was nuts and not a soul stateside knew of my plans because I was afraid someone would slip and my parents would change their mind about coming. Ready for the zinger? Our flight departing Naples and headed to Istanbul was hours after my parents’ original flight landed. Now do you think I was crazy? As the time grew closer, I was beginning to think I was crazy.
So the big day of their arrival finally claim, Ben and I patiently waited for them to come through the gate. He even made a sign with their name on it, like they do when a driver is picking you up from the airport. It had Nana and Papa Ledesma on it, which made the other passengers smile. We greeted them with hugs and we started to walk away from baggage claim, at which point I directed them to a set of chairs. Seeing the look of confusion on their face as to why I was not leading them to a car that would whisk us to my house in Naples, Italy, I broke the news. Dum Da Dum Dum…Dum! They were fine! I mean obviously tired and a little jet lagged but excited to go to Turkey! Whew! And so our adventure began… It was fun sitting next to my Mom and Dad on what would be their 2nd and 3rd flight in their lifetime. We shared Ipod music and our first taste of Turkish airplane food. If that was any indication as to what we could expect of Turkish food, I think we will be in good hands! We landed, and mom and dad got to experience what we have many times in flying in Europe. The entire airplane erupted in applause. Upon collecting our luggage, we experienced something new. VISAS! You see when you fly within the European Union, as long as you are only planning a short trip of less than 90 days, then you don’t need a visa. Turkey is not part of the European Union, so we were required to get a visa. Some countries have more of an extensive process than others, but as Americans in Turkey, it is generally just a matter of paying $20 at the airport. So we got our visa and off we went. We had arranged to have a driver pick us up from the airport and take us to our apartment where we would be staying. It was funny because as we weaved in and out of traffic, both mom and dad remarked on the terrible driving. Rob and I giggled, and informed them that Turkish drivers, “got nothin’ on the drivers in Naples.”
We arrived to our apartment and the owner was so hospitable, he lived just below where we were staying and offered to provide us with anything we might need during our stay, gave us suggestions of what to see, and directions to a local neighborhood store. We were set! Mom and Dad had their own room and Rob, Ben, and I each had our own bed in another bedroom. The kitchen doubled as a living room with a tv and a breakfast nook type table. Having arrived so late we knew we wouldn’t begin exploring until the next morning but EVERYONE was hungry. So off we went to find food. We found a great restaurant and Rob went to find an ATM since we didn’t have Lire yet. The owner brought us Apple Tea, it was on the house…and it was delish! We all fell in love with it! Then we waited for Rob to return. We waited and waited…and waited…and waited. As it turns out, in his search for an ATM, it took him all over the city. Meanwhile, we imagined all the crazy things that could have happened to him. In the end, he arrived safely, he knew the layout of the whole city and we had a delicious meal.
So we finally headed back to the apartment to let mom and dad get their very much needed rest after their transatlantic and transeuropean flight. Though it may have been a good night sleep, it was the wake up call that came a little too early for all of us. The adhān or أَذَان, call to prayer began at 5:01 AM! Traditionally this was done from a minaret, summoning Muslims for mandatory prayers. A second call then summons Muslims to line up for the beginning of the prayers. The main purpose behind the multiple loud pronouncements of adhan in every mosque is to bring to the mind of every believer and non-believer the substance of Islamic beliefs, or its spiritual ideology. Despite the fact that none of us were expecting it at the crack of dawn, we found we barely noticed it each of the five times that it occurred throughout the day. It’s funny because by the second day, mom was doing the sign of the cross and saying her own little prayer. On the third day, we caught dad on video lip syncing to the call to prayer…now THAT was funny!
And so began our journey into the city. First up, the Hippodrome of Constantinople! It was a circus that was the sporting and social center of the capital of the Byzantine Empire. Today it is a square named Sultanahmet Meydanı (Sultan Ahmet Square), with a few fragments of the original structure surviving.
Onto the Basilica Cistern! It is the largest of several hundred ancient cisterns that lie beneath the city of Istanbul. The cistern was built in the 6th century during the reign of Byzantine Emperor Justinian I. It is there that I realized that I come by my theatricality honestly. The Ledesma and Leese family donned their Turkish costumes and posed for the camera. After our photo shoot, we explored the beautiful cistern and then to get out of the rain we ducked into a cafe. Let me tell you, conveying to a Turkish waiter that Mom wanted whipped cream to go with her hot chocolate proved to be quite humorous. I think we tend to take for granted how hard language barriers can be by themselves let alone when you throw in a dash of cultural differences. To Americans hot chocolate and whip cream just go together but to other cultures…not so much. Go figure, after a game of charades and back and forth, they had some that they used for some of their desserts, but if the looks on their face were any indication–whipped cream was not a typical ingredient added to hot chocolate.
By far, hot chocolate was not the only challenge my mom faced in Turkey (actually on her trip in general) next was the bathrooms. Mom came back from the bathroom soaked, something was screwy with the plumbing and instead of washing her hands, she got sprayed! It was at that point that she insisted she would never go to the bathroom alone and would ask which button to push before doing anything. This would come to serve as fodder for making fun of mom for the rest of the trip.
Hagia Sofia (Ayasofya) is a former Orthodox Patriarchal Basilica, later a mosque, and now a museum. What a beautiful place! Famous in particular for its massive dome, it is considered the epitome of Byzantine architecture and it is said to have said to have “changed the history of architecture.”
There is a section of the church that we found very fun. According to Frommer’s travel book, the legend goes that when construction of the Ayasofya reached the height of a man, the construction team set out to get a bite to eat, leaving their tools under the watch of a small boy. An angel appeared and urged the boy to fetch the men so that they could return to the work of building God’s house. When the boy told the angel that he promised not to leave the tools unattended, the angel promised to keep an eye on everything until his return. After leaving the site and thus breaking his promise, the boy was never allowed to return, and the angel continued to wait for him and cry when he didn’t return. This is known as the “sweating column” or the “crying column”. Legend has it that these waters have healing powers and that the angel grants a wish to all those who complete a 360-degree circle with their thumb in the hole of this wish-worn column. SO of course we all had to take our turn.
Not to be deterred by the rain, the Leese’s and the Ledesma’s pressed on to our next stop at the Blue Mosque. Shoe-less and completely inspired by the beauty of this place we sat for a few moments just to take it all in…well, AND to rest our weary feet. It was interesting to see the place that was segregated for those worshiping since half of them were on their cell phones. Guess the electronic age has affected us all.
What would a trip to Turkey be without experiencing the art of carpet buying. I experienced it in India and there is something to be said about “the show” these shop owners put on for you. We had our tea, got our tapestry lesson learning how Turkish rugs are the best in the world, I should tell you that the justification is remarkably similar as to why Indian rugs are the best in the world, but we politely listened. Though we did go home with a beautiful piece, I think my grandma and mom’s bargaining skills have found a safe place in my soul that I have come to treasure.
Then there was Çiğdem Pastanesi. I am pretty sure as the song goes, my mom left her heart in Çiğdem Pastanesi. This was a bakery and though we have yet to figure out what the name of the magic dessert is, Mom just might have bought stock in the place for all the times she made us stop in to stock up on this chocolaty goodness. It was fun to be adventurous and try all the foods that Istanbul has to offer. After passing dozens of karts with them, smelling the lovely aroma, and all of us singing “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire,” Dad thought we should finally all try the “kestane” chestnuts. I am here to tell you, despite their yummy smell. None of the Ledesma or Leese Clan were a fan of the kestane. Ben says, “They taste like eggs!” Pretty sure that wasn’t meant as a ‘good thing’. But, there are plenty of things that we did LOVE eating and drinking in Turkey….we loved borek (think quesadilla but with Turkish flavored meats), pomegranate juice, Adana Kebabi, of course baklava and Turkish Delight. One night the owner of the place we were staying brought up some freshly made ashure. It is also called “Noah’s Pudding” a reference to the legend of Noah’s Ark. Traditionally; it is made on the 10thof the Islamic month of Muharrem. In Arabic “Ashar” means Tithe, a tenth part of something; so it may have acquired its name from this connection. According to the legend associated with the story of Noah, days passed and food became scarce, and starvation seemed impending. There was not enough food left to make a decent meal. Noah collected whatever edible left around the boat, and mixed them together in a big cauldron. Famine was averted, and everybody in the boat survived. And Ashure was born. Historians believe that the Noah’s Ark came to a rest at the top of Mount Agari in Eastern Turkey. This special dish that Noah is believed to have improvised serves us as a reminder of the God’s mercy over mankind through Noah. No matter what the story behind it is, we inhaled it!
The next morning our adventure took us to the Topkapi Palace. Little did we know what exactly was in store for us. As we wandered through the Chamber of the Holy Relics Collection, nothing could have prepared us for what we found. It’s as if I didn’t quite see it when I passed by the first time, in a double take I re-read the placard describing the item on display. “Wait, what did that say? Mom, did you see this?” An extraordinary mixture of relics, including Moses’ rod, Abraham’s saucepan, John the Baptist’s hand and Mohammed’s footprint, one of his teeth and a selection of hairs from his beard. So…wait…really? Moses’s staff? Seriously? So of course I did my digging when we got home and of course there were the skeptics that give all the reasons, scientific and otherwise as to why this couldn’t possibly be authentic. But, just like when we saw the Shroud of Christ, maybe it was the real thing and maybe it wasn’t but the bottom line is I was okay believing in that one moment that I was in the presence of something so sacred and precious that it gave me chills.
A visit to the Topkapi Palace was especially entertaining when as we were slurping down our yummy pomegranate juice a girl chased after us shouting, “I’ve been shouting O-H, why aren’t you shouting I-O?!” Dad was wearing a Buckeyes backpack and she was from Ohio. She said, she was ready to dismiss us as some tourists who happen to pick up a OSU bag, but we assured her we were true Buckeye fans. Small world…small world. Then despite a little bit of rain, we walked out of the palace to a beautiful double rainbow! Talk about keeping with the “Noah theme”.
To really add to the excitement, after trying chestnuts for the first time, there was much commotion in the plaza with cart vendors running in all different directions. We came to find out that these were illegal vendors who were scurrying with their carts before the “undercover civilian mob” nabbed them. I don’t think anyone successfully escaped but it WAS exciting!
Our visit to the Galata Tower was far more educational then we ever imagined. It is there that we had the opportunity to see the beautiful landscape of Istanbul at night, but more importantly, we learned that my dad is afraid of heights! Who knew? In 40 years of my life I had no idea.
For our final couple days in Turkey we made our to the Asian side of the country. I think all of our exploring had finally caught up with us because Rob was able to catch each one of as we tried to sneak in some Z’s on the ferry ride over. Among other things we saw the Rumeli Fortress, which was built by the Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II between 1451 and 1452, before he conquered Constantinople. When we landed on the Asian continent, Ben and Rob went up to explore the Yoros Castle while Mom, Dad, and I enjoyed some apple tea and some more Turkish treats.
Finally, we made our way to the Turkish Markets. It seemed only appropriate that we spend some quality shopping time in two of Istanbul’s biggest markets since our time in Turkey happened to land on Black Friday and we all know how seriously the Ledesma women take Black Friday. So we made our way to the Grand Bazaar, one of the largest and oldest covered markets in the world, with 61 covered streets and over 3,000 shops which attract between 250,000 and 400,000 visitors daily. There were ceramics, Turkish delight of every kind, and of course my personal favorite the Turkish lamps! Next was the Spice Bazaar, where they sell more of the edible treats that Turkey has to offer like baharat (spices), nuts, honeycomb and olive-oil soaps, and truckloads of incir (figs), lokum (Turkish delight) and pestil (fruit pressed into sheets and dried).
We were all very sad to see our Turkish adventure come to an end, but we have no regrets. We explored the heck out of the city and are ecstatic at the contemplation of returning!