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On Friday, May 14, Meldan hosted another party to bid us farewell. Although it is another three weeks before we head back to the States, this was the only date on which nearly everyone could come. One couple, the cultural affairs officer and his wife, both of whom are very nice, showed up the previous Friday, ready to party. When they saw Meldan’s look of shock on that earlier date, Rachel, the wife, turned to Tom and said "I thought it was next week." Anyway, we had a nice time and, as always, scads of food, all served very elegantly.
The very next morning, we headed to the bus station to board a bus to Tekirova, a resort community on the eastern part of the Teke Peninsula, west of Antalya. There, we met up with some of the people from the night before, including the Embassy’s public affairs officer. The purpose of the trip was for all the Fulbrighters to get together from all over the country for an "evaluation" meeting. Some of us think it was simply an all expenses paid vacation for the Fulbright Commissioners, including the U.S. Ambassador.
At the risk of sounding ungrateful for three days at a Mediterranean resort, at no expense to us, this was not a completely satisfying trip. For one thing, the meeting was nearly useless. Each Fulbright member was given about four minutes to sum up their year, and make recommendations to improve the program. That was pretty much it. Then we were on our own to do what we wanted for a day and a half.
Because the Fulbright Commission planned nothing, nor gave us any information about what was available, a lot of us floundered around trying to figure out how to get to some of the incredible sights nearby. The Commissioners, who had been here many times before, all took off on their own excursions, leaving those of us who’d never been there behind. (Some Fulbrighters knew the lay of the land and how to get around so they, too, took off). Some of us negotiated a full day’s boat ride, with a lunch on the boat, swimming, and trips to some historical sights, but the plans got extremely complicated, and ultimately fell through due to some stingy individuals and a few temper tantrums (not me, this time!) Just as the plans had finally jelled, about twelve hours after we started them, one Fulbright staff member informed us that she booked a boat for us for the afternoon—for free. A half hour earlier, she told me that nothing was planned. Aaargh! There went all our plans for the all day trip and the visits to historical sights. Our stingy companions jumped at the chance for the free boat ride, leaving the rest of us in the lurch. (We needed a minimum number of people for the all day trip).
So, off we all went on a two and a half hour ride along the coast. The bad part was missing those sights—Phaselis, where Alexander the Great summered during one of his campaigns; Olympus, with its ruins peeking out of jungle like growths; the Chimera, a mountain still spewing perpetual fires from gases escaping within, the fires of antiquity, where the myth of Pegasus takes place. And the mountains surrounding the resort went unexplored by all but the U.S. Ambassador and his wife, who knew how to get to the paths, but felt no compulsion to let anyone else know.
Were we irritated? Mightily. Was the boat trip a waste of time? NO! We got to swim in the Mediterranean, jumping off the boat that had stopped in a cove, within sight of a peculiar rock formation that looked exactly like the profile of a woman’s head. It is called "Cleopatra’s Rock." And the brief trip was very relaxing, the weather was gorgeous, and the Mediterranean very very blue. The only glitch was the uncertainty of the whereabouts of two Fulbright students who swam to shore, then disappeared for about an hour, as we all waited for them on the boat. (We had visions of Antonioni’s "L’Aventura," where a woman disappears from a Mediterranean island, never again to be found). Eventually they were rescued by the captain and a crew member who had to take a rowboat to another beach to find them. The students were bemused that they had been holding up a whole boat load of people, and didn’t seem at all remorseful.
As for the resort where we stayed for three days, it is not at all the type of place I would have chosen. A real "resort," with water sports, disco, four pools, all you can eat and drink (including alcohol, which was "free" the entire time), it catered to Russian tourists. Great, I thought, we’ll be among vodka swilling, disco dancing tourists, who will keep us awake all night. Not so! First of all, the resort was beautifully designed, with the rooms located far from the disco. The Russian tourists seemed to be all families. There were little kids all over the place, mostly very young, who were probably the most well behaved kids I’ve seen in a long time. Nobody drank in excess. The music stopped reasonably early. The water was great, the weather perfect, the scenery gorgeous. So, despite our frustrations with the Fulbright staff, we ended up having a good time. We even danced our last night away (until about 10:30 p.m.—we’re not all that young, and the music stopped anyway), choosing to forget all our irritations of the weekend. It’s still not the type of place I would normally choose. But, it was free to us, and ended up being a pleasant surprise.
Returning to Ankara, we had one more Native American group meeting, at the home of a woman named Ece, who is a documentary film maker for TRT, the official Turkish television station. She showed us one of the documentaries she had created about bears in Turkey. It was terrific, even if it has nothing to do with Native Americans. Interestingly, one of the people there we hadn’t seen since the meetings of fifteen years ago. I said to him, "I understand you are a doctor." His response was: "That is an insult; I am a surgeon." I avoided him for the rest of the evening, but had a good time otherwise.
On Friday, May 21, Hacettepe hosted a visit from the Seven Falls Indian Dancers, a family of a half dozen or so Native Americans who perform throughout the summer at various powwows and other venues. They incorporate traditional Native American dance with contemporary interpretations and costumes. During lunch, one of the dancers told me she has been to a powwow at Foxwoods in Connecticut, where I had once attended one of the gatherings. She is the world champion Southern Indian female dancer.
Above is a brief video clip I took of one of the dancers forming a traditional "grass dance." I hope you can open and view it easily.
This blog entry was written in haste, as we need to catch a bus to the Southeast in a few hours. If you are reading it before we return from our Southeast Turkey trip, forgive its rambling nature. If you are lucky enough to read it after I’ve had a chance to edit the entry, it may read more smoothly. (Of course, I will then have removed this paragraph). So, sorry about the "draft" nature, but I’ve got a bus to catch. Gorusuruz!
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