Madrid

Heading off to Madrid on Saturday for a six day stay in sunny Spain (or so we hope despite weather reports to the contrary). Therefore, this is likely the last post of the year - you can look forward to hearing about my Spanish shenanigans soon. Hope to see you again in 2010.

Getting In Touch With Nature

Ever had the urgent need to be devoured whole by an alligator? Always wanted to see the sun blotted out by a swarming cloud of mosquitoes? Ever desired to see a oak trees almost as old as Abe Vigoda? If these wishes top your personal list, then journey south from Charleston a few miles down Highway 17 in the direction of Savannah, Georgia and you will run smack into the perfect place to live your dream, the Caw Caw Interpretative Center.
Stretching across one hundred plus acres in Ravenel, a bare mile from the South Carolina coast, the Center sits on land stolen from Native Americans and then used for the cultivation of rice. The slaves of the plantation there took part in the Stono Rebellion, an uprising that came quite close to success. Although the slaves and natives have long moved on to heaven and their masters to an eternity of suffering in the lake of fire, their descendants can still take the opportunity to see the same mammals and birds that Uncle Tom and Simon Legree would have gazed upon in their bygone era had they not been purely fictional characters.
Nowadays Caw Caw is all about biology, zoology, and various other ologies, not about who killed/enslaved whom. The preserve presents a fascinating ecological melange, with forest land, swamp, and fresh and salt water habitats all existing side by side. This diversity provides a tremendous abundance of wildlife as a result (in addition to the aforementioned mosquitoes and alligators) most of which are significantly less likely to hold your head in their maws or suck your human juice until your skin tone resemble that of an albino leaving a blood bank.
According to the official propaganda being put out by the Caw Caw people, (as if we could trust these whacked out tree-hugging hippies) there are at various times of year400 species of plants and over 250 different species of birds ready and waiting to be observed if you would just pay some attention for once. Magnificent large water fowl like the anhinga, egret, and heron are all easily spotted even by the untrained eye.
With eight different trails winding through the Interpretative Center, your paths are not confined to the paltry two options Robert Frost gave you in his annoying poem. If you have the requisite time, I recommend trying the Habitat Loop, a 3.6 mile trek running the entire gamut of habitats. If treading upon the earth has become tedious to you, Caw Caw also offers canoeing trips along the Center's waterways. Petting the water moccasins as you paddle by is not recommended. Campgrounds are also available on site if you dig smores and can't afford a decent hotel.
For those of you with kids, Caw Caw provides a distinct opportunity to teach them about South Carolina wildlife before it is driven into permanent extinction. The Center provides several programs to teach children about the local plants and birds, as well as a course on the exploitation of free black labor for the purpose of cultivating Carolina gold, or rice in the parlance of our time. Adults can participate in morning bird walks, which take place every Wednesday and Sunday at 8:30 A.M., a time of day which I had not known existed before reading their fabulous brochure.
Spring or fall are the best seasons to visit, as temperatures are much more palatable for humans and animals alike during this time of year. Those of you who have sweated out 2/3 of your water weight in an hour during a July day in Charleston will know what I am talking about. During the winter much of the insect life is dormant and the reptiles preserve their heat by doing as little as possible, kind of like Sunday at my house - as long as you don't consider yelling at a football game to be exercise. The animals like the weather the most in the spring and fall, so they come out a play more as a result during those times of year. Regardless of when you decide to make the trip, Caw Caw Interpretative Center has something for you. Unless you hate nature. You don't hate nature, do you?

Totem Pole

You may have read here, there, or maybe somewhere else about the idea that each and every one of us has an animal totem, a kind of spiritual figure analogous to our persona. Most folks are bears or tigers, lions or cuddly kitty cats. Hopefully none of you out there are skunks, dingos, wolves or some other filthy, lying, stench-ridden beast.
What am I? Methinks in my heart I am a squirrel. I know, it seems like being a rather large man I should be something big and powerful like a lion or an elephant. The sloth might fit my persona on certain days when my movement is limited by hangover or more often, lack of motivation.
The squirrel is the one regardless of how little sense the choice may make on the surface. I have seen him as my brother in the animal kingdom since the day I walked through Cleveland Park and saw one running up-and-down and side-to-side on a tree adjacent to my path that day. He was spending time enjoying the world around him. None of his movements appeared to have any purpose as he scurried upon the tree, pausing with his tail straight up while his head faced the ground, perhaps just enjoying the blood flow to his minuscule noggin.
After disembarking from his pine, the squirrel hopped down the path - despite many different options he chose to stay on the six inch high rock wall that lined the flora planted in that part of the park. I was reminded of how as a child - and sometimes even as an adult - I would walk on a wall high above my companions just because I though it was more exciting or interesting than walking on the sidewalk. Here we get to the nitty gritty if you haven't figured out where I am headed. I've never cared to take the well-trodden path, the road less taken is usually the one I prefer and, like the squirrel on the tree, I prefer to have fun rather than obsess and stress myself out over "responsibilities" or the need to climb the working world pyramid. Don't view what a say as a value judgment on the choices you have made - my point is that each of us is different and should follow his or her own heart to become the person they are, not the person others want them to be.

Beers of the Month

For all of you connoisseurs of frothy, hop-laden goodness, I present to you my beers of the month for October just in time for some festival in Germany. I suppose the correct style of presentation would be to tell you about one beer each month, but I don't know when I will post again or encounter a beer worthy of a lathering of blathering. So with that said, let's move on to the only slightly belabored point.
My first choice is the Sunset Wheat produced by Leinenkugel's, a brewing company based in the great town of Chippewas Falls, Wisconsin. Leinie's needs to do a deal with the Flintstone's Cave Bar in Goreme, Turkey because the flavor imparted by the Sunset Wheat is identical to the taste of a bowl of Fruity Pebbles cereal. You may think, wow, what a terrible thing for beer to taste like, but you would be wrong. For some reason the plan works and I am a cheerful man as a result. Also, the bottle caps were integral in accessorizing my outfit.
We will journey to the land of lager for our second malty beverage, Kingfisher Lager. Kingfisher is produced in India, the nation where the real Indians come from - you know, the guys all named Patel who own and operate your local convenience store.
Done with bigoted racial stereotyping for now, we move on to the flavor. Honestly, I can barely tell you what it tasted like, and not for the usual reason. Surprisingly, I was not examining the topography of the floor at the time. I was having dinner at an Indian restaurant by the name of Saffron's (which I highly recommend to all Greenvillians) and my food was slightly hotter than the seventh circle of hell (in Dante's "Inferno" this is the area where baddies are forced to survive solely on the substinence acquired by consuming their own genitalia).
The Kingfisher had a delicate, sweet finish that managed to compliment the hotness of the food in a way that turned my palette into a culinary erogenous zone. Having worked in the restaurant business awhile, I am quite familiar with the idea of pairing wine with food. Rarely if ever have I had a beer that so perfectly complemented a dish. Needless to say, I was not unhappy.
Next month: the joy of funneling Milwaukee's Best Ice.

Just a G Thing Baby

Like the troubled crack junkie played by Chris Rock in "New Jack City", I have fallen deeply into the world of addiction of late. I always believed my willpower could overcome any fad, any substance that threatened to take me over and bend me like a crazy straw. Sadly, however, I have been possessed by the demon that is Gangland, a TV show on the History Channel dealing with the various street gangs terrorizing cities throughout our great nation, or at least the poorer areas thereof.
I have always had a twisted fascination with the criminal element, having read murder mysteries and true crime books throughout my mildly demented childhood. Mafia movies have always been able to draw me to the theater, and I often find myself hoping the law will be unable to catch the crooks. I rooted for the Robin Hood thieves and tried to understand the mind of the psychopathic killer.
Gangland is different somehow - I don't have any urge to sympathize with their crimes. I am sympathetic with the socioeconomic situation of the average gang member and why he or she is driven to live likely to end only in either jail or death, but there are plenty of people who grow up in terrible neighborhoods and resist the temptation for an easy buck. The whole story seems so sad and wasteful of human life - in many cases lives that hardly get started before they reach their end.
So I am just a child who has watched too many movies and become enamored with the violence so often portrayed in modern blockbuster cinema? Unlikely, for I'm not a fan of blood and gore either. Hearing the stories of these killers turns my stomach at times. As a result, I am turned off by the fact that the show seems to present gangsters in a positive light at times. The narrator doesn't come out and openly say one should emulate these people, but the program does in some way make certain individuals into criminal celebrities by playing hip music while recounting their violent deeds.
In fact, those thugs that are more violent and cold-blooded seem to earn extra time spent reflecting on their "impressive" deeds. Rarely is their behavior criticized, with the exception of a terse summary at the episode's conclusion. I can easily picture prospective gang members being turned onto the lifestyle by the way it is presented.
Regardless of these complaints I make, I still sit through these shows on a regular basis. What the hell is wrong with me?

Adventures With the Mole People of Cappadocia

(Part Three of My Three Part Series on Turkey)

From what I understand, being run over by a car hurts a great deal. The land now occupied by Turkey knows the figurative feeling, having been a speed bump on the road to conquest for many civilizations throughout the last three millenia. The Hittites, Greeks, Persians, Greeks again, Romans, Seljuk Turks, Mongols, and finally the Ottomans all counted the land as part of their territory during the peaks of their respective civilizations.
To witness the result of these repeated historical hit-and-runs I first traveled to Istanbul, as documented in Part I of this series: Fireworks and Foreskins. Clearly, a nation boasting thousands of years of history has more to see than just one little town of twenty million or so peeps. Therefore, after spending a couple of days in Istanbul I journeyed to Anatolia, the Asian portion of Turkey, via a short flight to Nevshehir, along with my father and my stepbrother. We were all set to take a four day swing through some of the most fascinating geological and historical sites I had never seen. Odds are they would prove to be just as amazing as I thought they would be before I had ever been there. Confused? So am I was will be.
Averting a lesson on how not to use verbs in writing the English language, we return to our regularly scheduled intro : on tap for our trio were excellently exciting excursions to ancient excavations in Cappadocia, Pamukkale, and Ephesus.
The journey started in grand style with our arrival at our hotel, located directly underneath an imposing ancient rock castle which extended into the sky several hundred feet above us. We had arrived in Cappadocia, an area renowned for its bizarre rock formations that apparently were designed by a God with a predilection for the work of M.C. Escher. Stones twice as large as the ones underneath somehow maintain a tenuous balance thanks to the wacky wonders of Mother Nature.
The local geology is reminiscent of the American West, with mesas and canyons bringing to mind Arizona and strange jumbles of stone conjuring up images of the Badlands in South Dakota. The rock is composed of sandstone and limestone, which are both extremely malleable when presented with the erosive forces of wind and water or maybe just a dozen roses and an expensive dinner.
Some of the first humans in the area quickly realized the benefits of such easily carve-able material (as well as a semi-arid climate excellent for farming). Evidence of settlements dating back thousands of years has been found. Caves, and then later more elaborate homes, were made by simply chiseling into the soft minerals and following the steps laid out in caveman Bob Villa's easy to read ten volume manual on do-it-yourself cave construction. There is even a Flintstone's Cave Bar, although in all likelihood the place dates back to the Tourist Age rather than the Iron Age.
As Cappadocia grew into an important outpost within the Hittite Empire (the first great empire in Anatolia) underground cities were also built to protect the women and children during foreign invasions. If you choose to go down into one these cities, make certain to be short. I got stuck in one of the passages and nearly had to have important parts of my body amputated in order to extricate myself.
The defensive capabilities of Cappadocia were also impressive. Three castles, one of which was adjacent to our hotel, loom up high over the terrain, making a head-on attack suicidal and only siege warfare practical.
We surveyed the whole terrain via an early morning balloon flight. I don't usually recommend getting up before dawn unless you haven't gone to sleep yet, but I was jet-lagged and was able to trick my gullible body into believing it was a less ungodly hour. The sights from up high were unparalleled in my experience and my humble prose fails to do them the justice that only pictures can.

Pamukkale Anderson

After two days in the land of fairies, elves, and mole people, we hopped on a bus for a short ten hour drive to Pamukkale. The particular people carrier in which we rode was perfectly nice, comparable to a Greyhound bus and probably better than most of their rusted rides. Alas, being quite tall it is difficult for me to garner any sleep within a moving vehicle, since the top of the seats usually only extend to a point even with my neck.
As a result, when we began our tour of Pamukkale, I was not in the best of moods. Suffering from lack of sleep and stomach issues was not ideal, but when combined with the hundred degree Fahrenheit temperature, let's just say that I had better days in Turkey than this one.
Regardless of the pains it may take to reach, Pamukkale is not a destination to be missed. Sitting on a high hill protected by a ring of tall mountains, the area was home to the ancient Roman city of Hieropolis, which was destroyed by a massive earthquake in the 7th century. Houses went without cable or electricity for the next thousand or so years. Several notable revolutions were not televised as a result.
We viewed the ruins, but Hieropolis is by no means the centerpiece of Pamukkale - that honor goes to the liquid that pours out of the hill like a geological soda fountain. Made a UNESCO world heritage site in 1988, the area is home to a series of hot springs caused by underground volcanic activity that gush a combination of mineral water and calcium carbonate.
Pamukkale means "cotton castle" in Turkish but in my eyes the cliffs looked more like glaciers, a sheet of ice covering the rock and shining brightly in the afternoon sun. Whatever comparison you prefer, the white surface of the earth there is due to the solidification of calcium carbonate (the rock form is known as travertine) over a long period of time.
Terraced pools of the calcified water dot the otherworldly terrain as well, some formed by the whims of the Earth and others by the whims of man in the pre-UNESCO days before the hotels were kicked off campus and moved to the modern village below. Although fairly shallow, you can use the pools to elude the fierce midday sun, covering the body head-to-toe with the milky mud, a sort of do-it-yourself spa treatment.
If you choose to pay the outrageous price of 27 Turkish lira (equivalent to about 20 US $) you can enjoy the man-made swimming area at Pamukkale. The managers of the site have transformed the hot springs there to create a waterway full of Roman style statuary and rock. The liquid inside is different from that in the terraced pools, a warm mineral water, perfectly drinkable as long as you don't mind the near one hundred Fahrenheit temperature. Despite the warmth of the pool, my swim was quite pleasant, a relaxing relief after the bumpy bus ride of the night before.

Ephesus

Our escape from Pamukkale was much easier, a mere three-hour trek down the road to the seaside town of Kusadasi. After spending a night in a hotel room rather than on a bus, we awoke refreshed and ready to take on the ancient Roman ruins of Ephesus.
Those biblical scholars of you out there will recognize the name from the biblical chapter Ephesians, in which the apostle Paul writes a number of missives to his Christian homeboys in Ephesus (Paul also lived there for a time). The Virgin Mary is also said to have lived the last years of her life on a nearby mountain. For those of you more hop and barley inclined, Ephesus is called by the name Efes in modern Turkey, sharing a name with the country's most popular beer.
Ephesus is best known nowadays as one of the most fascinating archaeological sites of the ancient world. The settlement was largely destroyed by an earthquake in 614, but archaeologists have been excavating the area for many decades and have put enough Lego blocks made out of rumble together to recreate much of the original city. Even so, myriad pieces of the puzzle still lie on the ground and many years of work still lie ahead.
What has been assembled so far? Two amphitheaters, a small one seating in the hundreds and a larger stadium with capacity for an amazing 20,000 plus have been put together. Temples dedicated to the Goddess Artemis and to the emperors Hadrian and Domitian are partly put together and the Library of Celsus can be used to store manuscripts once again with the mere addition of a roof. The whorehouse across the street from the library is looking pretty good too, so quit downloading porn and go purchase yourself a more interactive fantasy.
The privies were also in such pristine condition I had to be persuaded not to use them. Here is some Roman privy etiquette knowledge for your edification: always sit in the seat closest to where the water is flowing into the privy - shit really does go downhill and you don't want to be at the bottom of that hill.
Here are some ancient bathroom facts: there were no partitions between the stalls, but a gentleman's toga would protect his privates from the view of intruding restroom onlookers. Also, during the winter slaves would be used as seat-warmers so that the patricians would not have to place their majestic bums onto frigid rock or end up with a frozen cock.
A vast array of Roman statuary has also been preserved. Hercules, Arete, Sophia, Ennoia, Medusa, Diana and many other figures from Roman/Greek mythology are spread throughout the city. My favorites were Artemis, the Goddess of fertility who wears a necklace made of bull's testicles and Priapus, another God of fertility, who walks around with an erection absurdly large enough to make most men pass out from the lack of blood flow to the rest of their body. Some statues of Priapus show him carrying a cornucopia of local produce on the top of his massive weiner.
Real life figures were also depicted in the market square, where many of the city's important personages were enshrined in marble. What native can forget the famous malaria doctor of Ephesus? The good doctor, quite naturally, died of malaria. He must have been an ugly S.O.B. since someone decided to rip the head off of his statue. Help discover the identity of the vile desecrater at the Doc's website www.whereismyhead.com.

The Future

As a huge fan of history and culture my visit to Turkey held no end of fascination. From the wild geology of Cappadocia and Pamukkale to the astounding architecture of the Hagia Sophia, the Sultan Ahmet mosque, and Topkapi palace, Turkey is a combination of amazing God and man made wonders. Still, as much as I tried to fit everything in there are yet more places to explore. Gallipoli, the site of one of the most intense battles of WWI, Troy the real life kingdom from Homer's Iliad, and the ancient biblical city of Antioch all escaped my grasp during my travels. No worries, like an Arnold Schwarzenegger robot armed and dangerous with digital camera in hand, I'll be back.

Victory!

The long automotive battle between my brother and I has finally come to a conclusion with the death of his Honda last week. Despite the many problems with both of our cars, documented here, we fought a hard battle for over thirteen years, both automobiles and their owners refusing to give up the ghost. Recent transmission issues had me worried, but the magical brown beast seemingly fixed itself and trod onward.
Your winner is pictured here savoring the accolades, as well as another day spent on the road rather than in the junkyard. Notice the one remaining hubcap.
Can the Camry, currently sporting just under 220,000 miles, defeat yet another of Colin's rides? Only time will tell (the answer is hell no). Let the games begin!