Tragedy and beauty

Our last full day in Maui … already?  Yes, a little hard to believe, but then that’s sort of how quickly time flies in this place, even though you feel like things move reaaalllly slooowly.  Like the cars on the "highways" of Maui, obeying the 35 mph posted state speed limit.

Given that we had hit the pool yesterday, today was more about the beach.  Still on Pacific time, we woke early, munched on our bagels and downed some cereal, just in time for the sun to begin warming up the water.  I decided to rent some snorkeling gear, having been told that there was some good coral reef right on the beach that our hotel looked out upon.  I was skeptical at first, especially since my last snorkeling experience had been at the Great Barrier Reef in Australia - it would be hard to top that adventure.  I remembered from that trip that we had to travel a fair distance out to into open water, so I didn't think I could just wade into the water, and within a few feet be amongst coral.  But it was true.  Kaanapali beach had coral that were so easily accessible that you could not be blamed for thinking  that it was an expensive, fake, set-up.

My snorkeling adventures did come to an abrupt end, however, when I noticed a lot of commotion on the beach right by where I had left Saeeda and Nuha.  I decided to swim back to shore, and no sooner had I got there than I realized that the excitement was due to a group of people trying mightily to revive a lady who was lying prone on the sand.  Saeeda and Nuha were huddled not far away, having had to scatter as the lady had been pulled in from the surf.  A few minutes later EMT’s arrived, and it became clear from the conversation that the woman had been snorkeling and had passed out.  Her family had dragged her out when they had noticed something wrong.

Saeeda, Nuha, and I decided to leave the crowd of gathering onlookers – the EMTs were trying to revive this poor woman who had gone into cardiac arrest, and gawking was not going to help matters.  What I found strange was that the same thing had happened the day before, while we were at the hotel pool.  From our poolside chairs, we had seen an older gentleman pulled from the surf, also having passed out while snorkeling.  The EMTs had not been able to revive him, and he had been rushed to the hospital.

The three of us went back to our hotel room to change, sobered by the reminder that tragedy can strike even in the happiest of places.  Still, in a way that made me appreciate Hawaii's beauty even more.  There's only so much time that we have on this planet, and the beauty that surrounds us is vast.  Being able to visit some of that beauty is a blessing, and for that I am grateful.

The island's affect on the mind

Ah Maui.  Boy did we enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed today.  We woke up late, had breakfast in the room, and headed for the pool, where we lay around some more.  The lounge chairs reclined at the perfect angle, the sun was just the perfect amount of hot, and the kiddie pool was just right for Nuha, who if left to herself, would have remained there all day.

All that hard work in the morning required a nap back in our hotel room, after which it was time to get ready for the luau that we tickets to.  As with other native traditions in places that depend so much on tourist revenue, the Hawaiian luau has become more of a spectacle that amuses visitors than an accurate depiction of local custom.  Despite this, the kid-friendly Polynesian Village luau that we attended was a pleasant experience, one made more so by what came across as genuine hospitality by staff that looked as if they enjoyed what they did for a living.  Nuha enjoyed making leis, I got to taste kava juice (which the muscled, bare-chested, islander manning the station promised “was good for my banana”), and Saeeda delighted in seeing me up on stage trying to imitate one of the warrior dances.  There were plenty of dances thrown in from neighboring islands – Fiji, Samoa, New Zealand all got a shout out.  And the firedance was really neat too.

In all, a great day to relax and cleanse the mind.  I’m starting to rethink this whole having to work for a living thing.  Why can’t we just live in an island state of mind?

Are you ready for that now?

Of all the places I’ve wanted to travel to, Hawaii is the one destination about which it has been hard not to form preconceived notions.  So many people have traveled there and then come back with great reviews, that it’s been hard keeping expectations low.  Still, when we started looking around for one last, quick vacation to take before baby #2 arrives, Hawai’i was at the top of our list.

Given the limited vacation time that we both get, we decided to stick to Maui for the four days we would be here.  Arrival and getting the rental car was uneventful – what struck me was the tropical heat, and how similar it was to the heat and humidity of Pakistan.  It then also struck me that Maui and Karachi could not possibly be more dissimilar in just about everything else.

For example, you are unlikely to find a Costco right beside the Karachi airport.  Here, it seemed natural.  Visitors from out of state often come to stay for weeks in rented condos on the various islands of Hawaii, and it makes sense to stock up on food and sundry items immediately upon arrival.  Although we were staying at a hotel, it was still hard for me not to pull our rental car right up to the megastore.  Why pass up an opportunity to buy that 400-pack of AA batteries?  Or 200 rolls of toilet paper?  Or 20-pack of Calvin Klein underwear?  I might need any of those items at a moment's notice!

The Sheraton Maui, which was to be our home, was a pleasant enough property located in Kaanapali, in the northwest of the island and a 45 min. drive on a winding ocean highway.  Surrounding the Sheraton were the Westin, Hyatt, and Marriott properties, so we were definitely in resort central.  Despite the concentration, I didn’t feel that the place was overrun with tourists

Our first afternoon was spent eating a lazy lunch by the beach, getting some ice cream, and doing some grocery shopping.  By this point we had only been in Maui a few hours, but already we could tell prices were exorbitantly high here.  Eight slices of Kraft’s American cheese?  $4.  Gas?  Over $4.50 a gallon.  Being thrifty here would not be easy.

Dinner that night was an interesting experience.  We drove into Lahaina town, a short 10 minutes from all the resorts and a pleasant oceanfront area with lots of shopping and dining options.  However, service at Lahaina Prime Rib and Seafood was … interesting.  Our server kept forgetting to bring out things that we had ordered, and every time we reminded him, he would say, “Oh, sure – are you ready for that now?”  Of course we were ready – we ordered it, right?  I would understand if we had a 5 course meal that we were gently savoring at a leisurely pace, but that was not the case.Shouldn't we be provided with things like water and silverware right away?  

“O sure – are you ready for that now?” Yes, please, I’ve decided against eating my fish with my fingers, and will instead use a knife and fork.  “O sure – are you ready for that now?” Yes please, I’d actually like to try the food that I ordered.  I’m ready for that now.

Weird.  Just weird.

Rookie traveller

I'm in Brazil for a weeklong meeting - I arrived today in Sao Paulo expecting chaos because of the torrential rains that have already killed so many, but everything was smooth sailing.  We got picked up at the airport on time, and were whisked an hour into the countryside, where we are staying at the Bourbon Spa Resort.  Sounds fancy, but I've had to struggle to get my internet connection working.  Wireless is slow as molasses, so I'm having to use a LAN cable.  A what?  Yes, they still have those, youngling - wires that physically tether you to a specific location.  Cruel and unusual punishment, that is.

Also, despite the grand-sounding name of the hotel, the place is guilty of one of my pet peeves - no iron in the room.  I don't get it.  I mean, I know I'm a little anal and like to iron my clothes in the morning, but how can a hotel - a large, resort-style hotel with attached convention center which attracts business travelers from all over the world - not have in-room irons?  What's more, the front desk didn't keep irons either.  What the h#$%!  Are South Americans the world's greatest luggage-packers?  Do their clothes simply not crease?  I understand when a small, family-owned inn in a quaint European town, keeps irons only at the front desk because there is a clear fire and electrical hazard to keeping irons in guest rooms, but I'm staying at quite a modern facility.  I've had to spring for expensive ironing service for half of my wardrobe, the other half of which I will simply wear wrinkled.  Trust me, though - I'll be keeping an eagle-eye out for folds on the clothes of the other meeting attendees.  Because if I don't find any, they know something this experienced traveler does not.

Losing Lost

Tomorrow will be a watershed moment in TV entertainment history.  "Lost", that show that millions have come to love, is scheduled to come to an end.  I don't know if the conclusion will be enough to satisfy me and the other rabid fans out there, but it will be a conclusion nonetheless.  Perhaps this is for the better.  We've been annoying non-Lost watchers for long enough, going on and on about our lunatic theories of moving islands, parallel realities, quantum physics, smoke monsters, and the meaning of ... well, just about everything.

But this has been more than just a TV show for me.  My wife and I have been married for seven years, six of which (i.e., almost our entire married life), have been spent avidly watching this show together.  Not only can we measure the milestones of our life with the passing of Lost seasons, but we can also give thanks for the many friends we've made who are prone to the same nervous tics and mad rantings that each episode of this show gives rise to.

Things are not perfect though - the executive producers enjoy going on talk shows touting how they won't answer some of the questions their own writing has raised so that "the show can live on after the finale."  This is just code for "we didn't know what the heck we were doing at various points of the story arc, and now have no way of wrapping up that particular sub-plot."  Still, I'm willing to forgive these transgressions.  Lost represents the most intellectual and intriguing show that has graced the airwaves, and does not shy away from questions of philosophy, faith, and science.  It requires devotion to the nuances of each scene of each episode, and encourages discussion afterwards because no individual can hope to parse the meanings of each plot twist.

So it is with a heavy heart that my wife and I will sit down to watch the series finale tomorrow.  Regardless of what happens on the show, we know that we'll have spent the last six years on a crazy ride that promises one last, unknown, reveal.

Final thoughts on Istanbul

What an amazing adventure this has been.  Turkey is one of those places where no matter how many times pictures you see, you have to experience it in person.  You can't walk in Istanbul without gaining an appreciation for the historical crossroads that the city occupies.  Of why empires have chosen this place as their seat of power, and why they have built magnificent monuments to honor the city.

And the people!  So friendly and willing to help at every turn.  Their love of children is something that took me aback at first.  Random strangers would come up to Nuha while we would be walking around a site, and would pick her up and pinch her cheeks.  Behavior like this back home would have me half-reaching for my cellphone to call the cops, but here there is a genuine love for children.  Security guards at airports would take Nuha from us and play with her while we went through security.  Even school children, no older than eight, and present at almost all the historical sites on their daytrips, would come up to us, ask us how old Nuha was, and start to play with her.  At the Blue Mosque, where Nuha started crying hysterically for Saeeda, who was still inside, I was approached by a mother who wiped away Nuha's tears, consoled her (something I as her father was unable to do), and gave Nuha her own child's snack to keep her calm before just walking away.  Incredible.

What I enjoyed the most about Istanbul was being surrounded by vestiges of Christian and Muslim buildings, each singing to their Lord through their architecture.  Saeeda and I made an excuse every day to somehow end up at the Blue Mosque at one time or another.  It was impossible to rip yourself away from the beauty and significance of that structure.

Even the south, with its heavier commercialization, was beautiful in its own way.  Beautiful beaches, stunning mountain ranges, unspoilt countryside.  No doubt there is much to see in Turkey for the outdoor enthusiast, or someone just wanting to get away from it all for a while.

This is not going to be our last trip to Turkey, if there is anything that I can do about it.  The country is too beautiful a jewel to be left unappreciated for long.

Of Pamukkale and Permanence

Not having a GPS made us a little nervous in trying to attempt a long drive to Pamukkale from Fethiye.  But after yesterday’s Oludeniz experience (nothing but a really nice beach), and time spent in Fethiye (not much beyond the waterfront), we didn’t want to spend our last full day in the south of Turkey driving to yet another coastal city to see more of the same.  So despite the hotel staff’s incredulity at our desire to drive into rural Turkey, we packed our gear and headed to Pamukkale.

Pamukkale, meaning "cotton castle" in Turkish, is a city in south-western Turkey containing hot springs and and beautiful travertines, which are basically terraces formed from carbonate minerals left by the flowing water. People have bathed in its pools for thousands of years and the ruins of the old city of Hierapolis, built in 200-300 BC, can also be found here.

Not sure of the best way to get to Pamukkale, we decided to take the direct route from Fethiye, which unknown to us meant cutting across a mountain range.  We knew something wasn’t right when the narrow, winding, ever climbing lane became so harrowingly tight that it would have been impossible for any tourist bus to comfortably fit on the road.  What of the loads of tourists that were supposed to be heading to Pamukkale all the time?  We hadn’t seen any rest stops, or restaurants, let alone the tourist buses themselves.

Our car, with it’s puny engine, struggled mightily to climb the mountains on a road that practically disappeared from out beneath us.  The markings gradually vanished, paved blacktop gave way to dusty gravel, signage vanished, and detours abounded.  Saeeda and I exchanged some nervous glances, as by now we were more than 90 min. into our drive, but had no idea where we were.  More worryingly, I couldn’t picture myself trying to make the same drive back at night - there was no lighting or barrier between us and steep mountain drops.  What if the car broke down?

It was then that we started to hit a string of villages nestled in the crevasses that we were traversing.  Life here seemed pleasantly stuck in the 20th century.  Sheepherders tended their flocks in meadows, elegantly dressed old men sat by the street, engaged in obscure arguments, and grandmothers walked by the road while their grandchildren playfully ran ahead.  The scenery was stunning, and the people were wonderful – we stopped often to ask directions and appreciated everyone’s help in keeping us on track.  It wasn’t long after that when we finally burst out of the mountains and onto a highway again.  The same highway that was being plied by tour buses galore.  Yes, not only were we back on track, but we had found the highway we would take on our way back when we were done.

Pamukkale’s white cliffs appear high above you as you make it into the city, and there is another 10 min drive that takes you up to the entrance.  From there all visitors are carefully funneled to the cliffs themselves.  Some time back there had been so much tourist traffic that the brilliant white cliffs had started to erode, and the clear water had started to run muddy instead.  Since then the government has defined where people can walk, which is just as well.  The effect of suddenly sticking to a path that suddenly veers and places you before the white cliff adds to the experience.

There was understandably a lot of traffic here.  The scene is surreal because you stand on these brilliantly white surfaces as you look out onto the valley before you.  It’s hard to imagine how many millennia of calcium-rich spring water was needed to create the natural wonder beneath you.  And the warm spring water makes it fun to wade around in the pools that form all around you.  For me, the experience was enhanced, comically so, by watching the other tourists pose for pictures here.  Something about this brought out the exhibitionist in everyone

And this

And then this

I decided not to snap pictures of bikini clad women who were posing as if they were auditioning for the latest Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition – I wouldn’t have been able to come up with explanations credible enough for Saeeda afterwards.  But suffice it to say that in certain parts of the cliffs it felt like we were disturbing a modeling agency’s photoshoot at times.

The ruins of Hierapolis area walking distance from Pamukkale’s cliffs, so after grabbing lunch at “Cleopatra’s Pool”, we headed north to the well preserved ruins.  The most spectacular of these was the amphitheater.  Beautifully preserved, and located on a steep hill, it wasn't hard to imagine siting here as an audience member thousands of years ago, and enjoying not only the spectacle on the stage, but also the view of the white cliffs and of the valley as it fell away beneath you.

While Saeeda and Nuha sat on the steep steps and rested, I walked around, wanting to touch the old worn rock that formed the walls, and perhaps in doing so connect with the ancient civilizations that had built this place.  The engineering was a marvel - sound carried effortlessly, removing the need for modern sound systems, and there truly wasn't a bad seat in the house.  I climbed back up to Saeeda and Nuha, and sat down to admire the view, and to try to understand the talent of those that had built something of such great permanence.

It was then that the call to evening prayer came wafting over the air from the city of Pamukkale beneath us.  I couldn't understand how, but voices of the muezzins seemed to amplify as they made their way to us.  The melody was one that I'm familiar with, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

God is Great.  God is Great, they called.  Bear witness that there is no deity but God.  Bear witness that Muhammad is his messenger.  Come to salvation.  Come to prayer.  God is Great.  There is no deity but God.

It was a spiritual moment.  Just a moment ago I had been remarking on the magnificence of man-made permanence.  The calls to prayer that continued to waft over me provided a stark reminder of the fallacy of my line of thought.  Civilizations vanish, buildings crumble, and history fades.  The only thing that remains permanent is the Force that placed things in motion, and which will be there for us to turn on the day it all comes to an end.