Recap of Olympia

The next stop was in Katakolon, Greece. We arrived at Olympia after a short bus ride, during which we were told some history and interesting (though inaccurate*) mythology.

Olympia is known primarily as the birthplace of the Olympics. They were traditionally said to have begun in 776 BCE, and this is when they officially started count, but there is evidence to suggest earlier origins... in much the same way we count year zero based on inaccurate estimates of the birthyear of Jesus. The games were abolished in 394 CE by the Roman Emperor Theodosius I for being non-Christian. The athletes performed in the nude and in honor of Zeus, Kronos, Nike, and various other gods and goddesses... not very Christian, I suppose.

The Olympics were so important, they were often used as the method of keeping track of the year. For example, someone born in the 2nd year of the 40th Olympiad would be born in 614 BCE, expressed by the equation 776 - [(40 x 4)+2].

Often, modern people think of the world in terms of nations, but ancient people living in what we think of Greece would not think of themselves as part of a Greek country or empire. Rather, they would identify with their local city-state (polis). Pretty much the only thing all the Greek speakers had in common besides language was their participation in the four Panhellenic games (the others being the Pythian, Nemean, and Isthmian games). During these games, even city-states at war would compete peacefully under a truce known as ekecheiria.

Though the games were abolished at the end of the 4th century CE, some of the temples and other buildings at the site remained standing until earthquakes demolished everything in the mid 6th century. The site was then buried over time by silt from the nearby river’s regular overflow. Farmers in the area began unearthing relics in the 18th century, andtThe site was excavated and plundered by the English as early as 1766.

Nothing remained standing at the site; every column currently standing was re-erected by archaeologists. Littered about the site are numerous portions of temples:




Below is the partially reconstructed Philippeion, originally built by Philip II of Macedonia, the father of Alexander the Great:



This is a picture of the racing track. The foot races were not done in a circle; rather, runners would run straight down. One length was called a stadion. Later races were added where the runners had to return. There was even a hoplite race, in which the runners sprinted in battle armor weighing over fifty pounds, with shield. Chariot races were also run on the track, but they were set up to race in a circuit. The exact dimensions of the track are uncertain, and may have even changed over time, so the cleared track pictured is an estimate:



Here's where I analyze the ancient Olympics and provide suggestions on how to improve the modern Olympics. For one thing, we need pankration, which is essentially MMA. The only rules are no biting, no eye gouging. Second, the ancient Olympics had non-athletic events of an artistic nature (visual arts, writing, music, etc.). I think it would bring in some non-jocks. If you’re going to do something only once every four years, you have to attract everyone. The modern Olympics even had art events in architecture, literature, music, painting, and sculpture from 1912 to 1948.

The most interesting part of the trip for me was seeing the spot where the Temple of Zeus once stood. Below is a view of it from the front:



Impressive... with a little imagination. The temple housed what was regarded as one of the wonders of the ancient world: the gold and ivory statue of Zeus. Below is a picture of an informational plaque at the site:



One thing to point out is that Theodosius II ordered the destruction of the temple before the earthquakes completely demolished the ruins. The statue itself was carried off to Constantinople, where it was probably “recycled” by the iconoclastic Christians. Below is the lone column that has been reconstructed at the site:



Olympia has numerous statue bases (though the statues have been plundered by colonialist pigs and are currently held hostage by ineffectual liberal do-nothings). Some were statues of winners. Some were statues of gods made in payment of penalties for cheating. A few were just donations made by wealthy citizens to honor themselves or others. One can see indentations on the top of both of these bases where the feet of the statues would have been:





After Olympia, we were driven to a hotel where we were fed meatballs and cheese-filled pastries with blood orange juice and ouzo. I then sat through about ten minutes of Greek dancing of some kind. I have always hated dancing, and I sometimes wonder if the gene for feeling spirituality is linked to the joy of dancing. Any atheists out there who actually enjoy dancing? I’m sure there are, but I don’t really care (so I don’t know why I bothered asking).

Also, they played the song from the opening of the Godfather before the dancing began. This song was sort of the unofficial theme for our trip. We had heard it earlier from our hotel room in Rome being played by a street accordionist. It was also on the playlist in the dining room where we ate dinner. I can’t stand the Godfather; the song is pretty good, though. I don’t know which is worse, the Godfather or dancing. I think it would have to be the dancing done in the Godfather.

For my next post: Turkey… again. This time with pictures!



* The guide made a common mistake, equating the Titan father of Zeus, Kronos (Greek: Κρόνος), with Chronos (Χρόνος), the god of time. Renaissance scholars of Greek mythology were the first to incorrectly link the two, viewing Zeus’ later defeat of Kronos as a symbol of divine triumph over time, and therefore mortality. One can see the clear distinction between the two in the separate Roman mythologies of Saturn (Kronus) and Chronus (Chronos/Time).

Recap of Corfu

Our next stop on our honeymoon cruise was to Corfu, Greece. Corfu is a small, sickle-shaped island to the Northwest of the mainland. Our primary stop was at the Achilleion, a wealthy estate originally set up by Elisabeth of Bavaria. It was later used by Kaiser Wilhelm II. Below is a sculpture of Elisabeth.



The mansion itself is adorned with several amazing mythological depictions, from Greek to Christian. The image below is from the ceiling just inside the main entrance.



Below is a marble statue of Achilles with the arrow shot by Paris, and guided by Apollo, in his heel. It was done by Ernst Gustav Herter.



This is a statue of Achilles erected by the Kaiser. French occupiers during WWI removed an inscription under the name of Achilles which dedicated it to Wilhelm.



This bronze relief depicts a charioteer attacking some snake-legged people:




In Elisabeth’s private chapel, she had a depiction of Mary and the baby Jesus which was painted for her after an incident in a boat. She experienced harsh waters and prayed to Mary. Obviously she lived to commission the piece, and she attributed it all to the intercession of Mary. The painting shows rough waters in the bottom left, and the painting is read to the right, where the ship is seen sailing into calmer waters. Sadly, the lighting around the painting washed out some of the color at the bottom, but one can get the general idea.



Above this painting is a depiction of Jesus being brought before Pontius Pilate.



We made another stop and saw some pottery and such, but nothing worth showing. While this wasn’t the most interesting stop on the cruise, it was the first Greek stop, and was our first excursion with my parents.

For my next post: Olympia.

Recap of a Day at Sea and Croatia

Our first night on the ship was uneventful. We had the first of our many identical breakfasts: I had eggs over easy, a side of wheat toast, bacon, and a chocolate croissant. I had this breakfast, or a very nearly identical version of it (later adding some melon), every morning of the ten day cruise. Why don't my pants fit anymore...

The day at sea was mostly a blur. We walked around the ship, looked in the shops, I think we caught a movie or two. We swam in the pool on deck, the water in which swayed with the motion of the ship. We also got into a hot tub, but we discovered the jets didn't work. We used this knowledge to later.

We had a good lunch, although I waited forever for a salmon burger in this long line, and everyone who ordered salmon burgers after me were just bunched all up. When the first one came, some bitch with a National Review tag on took it and just left. It was mine, which had been cooking for longer because I ordered it several minutes before she even got into line (they apparently took ten minutes to cook).

Now, the National Review is some conservative think-tank that meets to secretly discuss their extreme prejudice in private. They all ate together in one section of the dining hall during the same seating time (luckily not ours). They had their own excursions, which meant they could be assured that no liberals might sully up the conversation on their bus tours. They even had these stupid name tags on blue lanyards that hung around their neck that were emblazoned with "NATIONAL REVIEW" in white letters. I guess it was a warning to talk slowly around them.

So now I am spending the rest of the cruise watching these people, looking for things to criticize. For one thing, they're mostly old as dirt or young adults (i.e. yuppies and their children). What few who are middle aged Gen Xers are single, fat and white. Ninety percent of the men are balding, and the other 10% part their hair on the side. They are predominantly men.

What women there are in the group are attached at the arm to a man. They range from young trophy wife to gracefully-aged former beauty queen to homely yet practical housewives with chin length hair and a smile permanently bolted on.

I also cannot help but eavesdrop on many of them. Most of the time, it’s inane babble about business details, wrought with jargon so impenetrable I can scarcely even make out what industry they’re in. But one thing I heard more than once was Obama bashing. Of course, all this was going on while Cheney and the Bush Administration are being investigated back home for crimes against humanity stemming from the wholesale slaughter of prisoners in Afghanistan.

Also, I want to just say before I discuss Croatia that I support the plan Republicans claim Obama is pushing, but not the one Democrats have proposed. Give me universal, single payer healthcare, none of this penalty-for-not-paying-for-private-insurance bullshit.

Croatia was an interesting place. I couldn’t point it out on a map before I visited it, and I’m still a little sketchy even now. Our excursion for this stop was to kayak in the ocean to a cave, where we could snorkel, then kayak back. I had never been in a kayak before, but my wife had done it many times previously.

When we got to the cave, we got ham sandwiches and went snorkeling for a bit. I had snorkeled a lot as a kid, but I had trouble this time. Every time I put my face under and breathed through the tube, I would hyperventilate. My wife had the same problem. I ended up just using the mask to look while holding my breath. There wasn’t much to see besides sand and minnows.

We kayaked back and took a bus to the ship. We looked around and bought a shot glass (my wife bought one from every place we visited except Sicily… and I’ll explain why not in another post). I didn’t bring my camera because I didn’t want to risk it on the water. Here’s the view of Croatia from the ship:



We got back and watched some TV in the room until dinner (I think it was Indiana Jones and the Lost Ark). After dinner, we saw a comedian named Richard Gauntlett, who had a hilarious joke about being arrested. The cop is reading him his rights, “Anything you say can and will be used in a court of law,” so he says, “Please don’t hit me again, officer.” Hysterical. We came back to our room and found this on the bed:



Those wacky cabin stewards!

For my next update, I’ll discuss Corfu.

Recap of Pompeii and Boarding the Cruise

First, I apologize for the gaps in posting. I have been working on writing many other things, looking for a job, and dealing with a car accident. Second, I think I figured out all the problems associated with posting pictures, so I should be getting them up much faster now. You can now click any posted pic to enlarge them.

Our third day in Rome was the first day away from my parents. I wasn’t itching to ditch them, but one always acts and feels differently around parents. They opted out of going to Pompeii because of the arduous nature of the trip.

It was indeed a tough trek. First, we took a splendid bus ride to the south of Italy, where we initially stopped in Naples (or Napoli). Here are some pictures of downtown and the coastal residential areas:

When we got to Pompeii, we had a lovely meal of salad, bread, and pasta with red sauce. I had a four euro Pepsi (that’s about seven American dollars). I will say this: soda tastes better in Europe because they use sugar rather than high fructose corn syrup, but it is expensive as hell. I kept some of the cans (all in foreign languages) as souvenirs. Why not when you’re paying that much for a drink?

When we got to Pompeii, I swear we entered at the lowest point in the entire town because the rest of the walk was uphill, the whole way. We saw shops and a gladiator training facility. We walked through an “audium,” which looks like a small auditorium for theatre but was used by politicians to give speeches.

The truly amazing part was when we got to the residential part and began to see the elaborate wall frescos. For example, here is one of a hunting scene:

In these, one can see some of the visual influences for the later Christian angels:

These next two are some of my favorites. They are both mythical beasts of some kind, the first my wife called a “bird-snake,” the second is likely a griffon or sphinx.

This next series I didn’t want to leave out a single one. They are frescos that adorned the walls of a brothel. They depict couples in varying positions, and in one a lonely yet well endowed man.

The next two pictures are some of the more commonly seen images from Pompeii. They are plaster casts of victims of the volcanic event, made by filling the empty spaces found by archaeologists in the hardened ash and pumice. The flesh was long gone, but the bones remained:

For those unfamiliar with Pompeii, it was buried by a volcanic eruption in 79 CE. As Christianity wiped Europe clean of any polytheistic culture over the centuries, Pompeii lay untouched under the ground. Because of this, some of the most unique finds from this lost time come from Pompeii and its neighboring city that suffered the same fate, Herculaneum. It is one of the only places in all of Europe where Roman frescos depicting polytheistic deities were preserved on such a large scale.

Of course, one of the things that had to go from Christian Europe were the baths. We walked through one, and it was quite elaborate. They had chilled water which was stored below the frost line to maintain a cold temperature. They had hot water baths that were fuelled by underground, man-powered boilers. The walls were ornate and covered in images of Neptune and Atlas (as you can see below, many figures of him are holding up the roof of one of the rooms).

What amazes me is that Christians think they enlightened Europe with their presence, but it took them over a thousand years to re-attain the technology of running water. As a result, their hygiene was atrocious, and they were hit with plague after crippled plague.

Anyhow, here’s three more pictures of casts of victims. The first is a woman who is pregnant, evidenced by the bulging stomach. The second is a man with his hands up to his face, probably trying to ward off the stifling fumes. The third is a dog.

There were several live dogs at Pompeii, also:

Finally, at the entrance of one of the homes was this picture of a dog.

Written in Latin is the warning “cave canem,” or “beware of dog.” We actually bought a magnet version of this tiled floor depiction.

That night, we got lost on our way back because the tour bus dropped everyone off at their hotel… except apparently us. They dropped us off at an unfamiliar corner and told us it was a few blocks down “that way.” We went “that way,” and saw nothing familiar. We pulled out our trusty map and couldn’t find any of the street names on the map. We ended up just walking up to someone, saying the street and hotel name with a question inflection, and following their directions. It got us close enough that we easily found our way back.

The next morning, we were whisked off to the cruise ship in Civitavecchia. I got some reading done on the hour and a half ride. I read most of “The Cosmic Connection,” by Carl Sagan and a book on Greek history over the course of the trip.

We got through security quickly because my father was on oxygen due to his lung and brain cancer. We saw our parents off to their room and then went to our own. We had a nice dinner, and then returned to our room to watch the sunset from our balcony.

Recap of Rome

I’d like to sum up the first couple days of our trip to Europe, which were spent in Rome and the Vatican. I will also throw in a few pictures, emphasis on “few.” Don’t worry; I’m not making you sit through a slideshow of all 610 of my pictures. Wow, 610… did I even see anything with my own eyes?

On our first day, we saw the Trevi Fountain, which was packed full of people.

This first day of Rome, I did not feel good. I had heartburn from breakfast (which I determined was from the eggs), which started during a mass I sat through with my family. It was my wife’s first Catholic service, and I think she was disappointed nothing interesting happened, not to mention that the priest was more liberal than Barack Obama. She enjoyed the post-church donut/pastry (some things truly are universally practiced by Catholics).

By mid-day, my stomach acid had worked its way through all the tubes. I was beginning to feel really ill and in need of a bathroom by the time we got to the Coliseum. I ran up the stairs of the hotel to our room when we got back… only to realize my wife had the keys. But no worries, I made it in time.

So besides experiencing what my wife referred to as “Caesar’s revenge,” the first day of touring was very interesting and relaxed. Also, this was the first of many days in Rome where meals were skipped (this time, lunch). However, we ate a wonderful dinner out where we got great Italian food, or as they call it in Rome, “food.”

My wife and I both got fettuccini, mine with pesto and hers with veal (the black balls are kapers). As per our arrangement upon ordering, we switched plates half-way through each of our meals. They were both amazing, but I must say I preferred the veal.

We wandered around a little, going back to spots me and my wife wanted to see again. We went back to the Column of Marcus Aurelius, the Spanish Steps, and our last stop was to see the Trevi Fountain at night because we were told it lit up. My wife seemed disappointed; I think she was expecting some sort of Pink Floyd laser light show complete with disco ball. However, we saw this neat fountain on our way back:



First up for day two is Michelangelo’s Moses statue, located in the Basilica of St. Peter in Chains:

We saw this on our second day, before going to the Vatican. Those horns used to be much longer, and were rays of light (Exodus 34:29). The story goes that they were once long and were broken off and filed down over time. However, the Hebrew word for rays of light and horns are spelled the same, so it could simply have been a translation error (as it is translated into most versions of the Bible as "horns") which was taken literally. This isn’t even the only well known horned Moses in Rome:

This was near the Spanish Steps, next to a depiction of Ezra and a towering column topped by Mary.

On the second day we also saw the Pantheon. Being a learned man of all things Classical and snooty, I was able to clarify to my wife several times in a condescending tone that it was the Pantheon, not the Parthenon (though we did see both on this trip; the Parthenon is at the Acropolis in Athens, Greece). The Pantheon was interesting, and housed the remains of the artist Raphael:

Rather than post a picture of the Pantheon in all its glory, I decided to show a picture I took of its one imperfection, the spot where the portico (entry) meets the domed rotunda:

Initially, the columns of the portico were to be higher. One can see in the picture where it was meant to meet the rotunda.

We then headed off to the Vatican, with our ultimate stops being the Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica. I’ll say it now: I have pictures of neither because my camera’s battery ran out in the stairwell leading into the Sistine Chapel.

First up is a painting that I find quite interesting. Sadly, I have little info on it because the title is obscured at the bottom. I know it is located in the Pinocoteca museum. I have no idea who the scratched out figure could be, but I love a nice, overt display of censorship:

Next we have a statue of a woman with over a dozen breasts:

Here, you can see not only the immensity of the map room and its detailed ceiling, but also the crowd we braved:

At this point my camera needed to be recharged. That night, I took some photos from the roof of our hotel. Here’s one of the better ones:

For my next blog post, I’ll be posting about our trip to Pompeii and the boarding of the cruise.

However, in honor of John Bolton’s appearance on the Daily Show last night, I just had to post this timely photo of him, taken in front of the Parthenon in Athens:

I am the walrus, coo-coo-cachoo.

Back Home

I have so much to say about my trip, but now that I’m back in the US, the most recent thing in my memory is the process of travelling back.

Nothing about Europe made me hate America, only coming back did. There wasn’t anything particularly seductive about Europe, nor did anyone there have anything inflammatory to say about the US. Rather, I would like to quickly point out the difference between entering foreign countries versus entering the US.

Our flight to Rome was quite long. Upon landing, we were quickly directed to one of several lines where our passports were stamped. After this, we picked up our baggage and went about our business. The procedure was even simpler when exiting the cruise ship, but the whole process is always expedited by the cruise line anyway, so I cannot say with much certainty how easy it would be to fly into Greece, Croatia or Turkey.

However, coming back to the states after a flight lasting over ten hours, we had to go through several, much longer sets of lines, including going through security again (as if we had not all just been herded from an airplane). Never mind the fact that we already went through US-level, take-your-shoes-off security in Rome. We also were given a form to fill out when on the plane.

The form for entering Rome asked basic information egarding swine flu symptoms and where we could be contacted in Rome should an outbreak potentially occur among fellow passengers. However, the US form was far more amusing.

Questions included whether we were transporting “disease agents, cell cultures, or snails.” How specific. The back of the form also mentioned that “Controlled substances, obscene articles, and toxic substances are generally prohibited entry.” I don’t know what they define as obscene articles, but I know for a fact America loves its controlled and toxic substances, often mixed together. Of course, we were allowed to bring wine, even though by any definition it is a controlled substance.

I just didn’t appreciate being sent through three times as many lines and searches when entering the US as I did in Rome, even though the US does not regulate its food, drugs or guns as tightly as Rome. I also hate the mentality that, “If you don’t have anything illegal, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Really? You wouldn’t be embarrassed having someone go through your dirty underwear? How about perfectly legal porn, or even tampons? What about my ten inch pink dildo and anal lube? Privacy is not merely a curtain for criminal activity; some things are just best left hidden.

I don’t appreciate security theatre. The entire process is arduous and irritating for the sake of being arduous and irritating. They nitpick over insignificant things to give people the illusion of safety. The mind of the fool says, “Well, if they don’t let me bring on nail clippers, then clearly no one could bring a weapon.”

But it’s all an act, folks, a stage play meant to put our minds at ease. There is always the danger of someone hurting you; that’s life. We cannot just sacrifice our personal liberties, even though it is really about nothing more than mere convenience. I would sooner drop the bullshit just to save the people who missed their connecting flights from having to reschedule because I acknowledge we are no safer for it.

On another note, after a 10 hour flight from Rome in which a toddler cried the entire fucking time, I no longer consider child abuse a crime.

Well, I’m off to label and upload my 610 photos of our two week trip. And yes, I got pictures of John Bolton, standing in front of the Parthenon at the Acropolis in Athens, no less.

Posting From Overseas

I'm writing this update from the ship as we depart from Kusadasi, Turkey. I won't be able to post it until the morning (which will mean it is late the previous night in the US... for I am a time traveller). I don't particularly like writing much about my own life or experiences, but I suppose I might be indulged to share the interesting things I have seen, heard, tasted, and even smelled over the past two weeks or so.

Rather than sum up everything we have done in Rome, Greece, and Croatia (which can be read on my wife's blog, at any rate), I would like to focus on our trip today to Turkey.

For one thing, the bus that took us to Ephesus had a Turkish rug down the aisle (or as they call it here, “a rug”). Before seeing Ephesus, we made a scheduled stop at a spot that the locals would love for us to believe was the Virgin Mary's house.

Now, I believe Yeshua (Jesus) was a real person, even though there is evidence suggesting the contrary (though they are mostly just inconsistencies which suggest embellishment, not a completely creative and conspiratorial lie). However, in this part of the world, there is not only a vested religious interest in attributing many things to him and and his followers, there is also quite a lucrative economic interest.

Perhaps a little background on Mary's house would be beneficial, so that the reader may make a judgment for themselves. If the details are slightly off, I apologize, as I must go completely by memory as I write this offline without the benefit of research and verification (internet access is a couple dollars a minute, so I will only be online long enough to paste this post from a word document). However, I have more than captured the gist of it all.

In the 19th century, a German nun had a dream in which she saw a woman who instructed her that she was Mary. This vision also instructed her that her final home was located in Turkey, atop a mountain in Ephesus.

Here is where my skepticism begins, as it clearly states this fact in the Bible, and while Christians are no good at acting as the Bible instructs, they are quite good at latching onto minor details and obsessing on them as absolute truth. She no doubt read that Mary was taken by the apostle John to Ephesus.

If she had pinpointed some spot, or even chosen a single mountain or hill, I might be more impressed. However, German archeologists dug atop several mountains (as there are quite a few nearby) before stumbling upon the foundations of a modest home overlooking ancient Ephesus. The site was quickly proclaimed to be “Mary's Home,” despite nothing being found there beyond some pottery and less than a foot of stone foundation.

A stone house was quickly erected, and a visit by a pope found no evidence that could disprove its legitimacy. As in all things religious, it was determined real because it was not proven fake. Pope John Paul II declared the location a place of pilgrimage, and Christians of every persuasion have been duped into trudging through the inauspicious fabrication ever since.

Perhaps the most interesting point is that Eriksson, the cellphone company, recently paid for many of the modern renovations, and perhaps even the building of the restaurant and gift shops nearby. In exchange, they were permitted to erect a cell phone tower atop the mountain. Tasteful...

The house was quite small. It had two doors and the building itself was arranged in the shape of an “L.” There was a large picture of Mary behind an altar, and gold or bronze incense burners hung about the room. A nun sat inside next to the altar, saying the rosary. Soft choral music was playing. I have no pictures of the inside, as video and photography was not permitted (however, I'm sure a quick Google search will yield plenty of photos). In fact, I cannot post any pictures until I return, as I left my camera's transfer cord at home. On a side note, my camera also ran out of batteries at the Vatican just as we entered the Sistine Chapel, so I lack any photos of that or St. Peter's Basilica.

There is also a wall at the Virgin Mary's house where the faithful—and I suppose even the unfaithful—may write something on a piece of rice paper or cloth (I was unsure) and tie it to a wall. My wife remarked that the practice is much akin to that which is performed at the Wailing Wall. At regular intervals, the caretakers of the house light the wall ablaze, “sending the prayers up to heaven.” This is a far more elegant solution to the accumulation than the rabbis who sweep up and throw away the pieces of paper that fall out of the wall in Jerusalem. I will post a picture of this wall with all my other photos when I get home.

After travelling down the mountain by bus, we got out again at the entrance to Ephesus. The city is quite old, having been established 3000 years ago and occupied until the 8th century CE. In its nearly two millennia of activity, it was first a Greek colony, then a Roman city, and finally it passed into the hands of the Byzantines. It fell into disuse when the sea receded, turning the once powerful port city into a malaria infested marshland.

As it fell into disuse, and the surrounding mountains being stripped of their trees (likely for use in fueling the public baths), it was only a matter of time before mudslides from the mountains flanking the city on either side buried the ruins, which had been toppled by earthquakes.

My wife and I took many pictures, and she bought a beautiful shawl in the bazaar outside Ephesus. The cruise ship's literature extolled the Turkish merchants for their “warm hospitality” and “friendly banter,” which turned out to be euphemisms for pushiness. My grandmother explained it best when she said it reminded her of shopping in Mexico, for they both have a sort of desperate sales pitch. It was the first country that took American dollars in addition to Euros.

After walking through Ephesus, we hopped back on the bus which took us to a rug shop where they did weaving on-site. We were shown tens of thousands of dollars worth of rugs. My wife was given a glass of apple tea, and I had a glass of Coca-Cola—I don't drink wine, tea, coffee, or “Lion's Milk,” a local hard liquor (the other choices). By the end of the demonstration, it quickly turned into the all-too-familiar sales pitch we have become accustomed to. We politely made our escape, even though the “exit” was on the other side of the shop from the entrance, forcing us to walk through a jewelry section.

We walked around another bazaar, and my wife bought a small, turquoise colored ceramic jar. We made our way back to the ship, and along the way saw cigarettes being sold. I wanted to take a picture, but someone in the store came up and stopped me. There was a warning in big, bold letters at the bottom which read “Smoking Kills.” We're talking a HUGE warning label, which took up a third of the carton's display side.

Earlier in the day, we shared an elevator with former UN ambassador John Bolton. There is a large Republican conference (the Nation Review) being held on the ship this week, and we've seen “the Walrus,” as I like to call him, several time. Supposedly, Karl Rove is on board, but that triple-chinned bastard must order a lot of room service because we never see him. We also saw John Bolton at the Virgin Mary's house, and several times previously while eating. He's kind of like a real-life version of Waldo now.

Leave it to Republicans to hold their group meetings in foreign countries, spending their money outside the US while their home wallows in the worst economic situation in generations.

I was told by our amicable and Muslim tour guide to pass along the knowledge that Turkey is not like most nations that are predominantly Islamic. Though the population is 90% Muslim, they are quite progressive. They sell alcohol openly, have bikini clad women on beautiful beaches, and the tour guide's brother married a Jew while in America and plan to raise their child in typical Jewish fashion in Instanbul.

This is nice and all, but I will point out that the travel information provided by the US informed us that criticizing the Turkish government is a crime. So I will not laud them as being truly free until I have time to adequately research the matter, and I am certainly not qualified to speak on their attempts to join the EU. However, they were as hospitable as any other port we have visited.

I believe this will be my only post until my stay abroad comes to an end in 4-5 days. I'm a little confused on the time loss/gain, and I am also unsure of when I will be prepared to post again even after we return, as I have quite a few things to take care of upon arriving home. However, the time away has provided me with quite a few insights, and I have filled half my moleskine notebook with thoughts I am looking forward to sharing here.

Gone

I'll be gone on my honeymoon for two weeks. I'll post during the short times we'll have internet (we have to pay per minute for access). Sorry this post is so short, we've been packing for the last two days, and there's still so much to do.

Projection

There is a psychological occurrence very near and dear to my heart called “projection” in which a person “projects” their own personal qualities and actions upon others. Israel appears to have done this.

During the attacks that occurred in December and January of ’08/’09, I made some posts (here and here) denouncing the actions of the Israelis. I still refuse to criticize the Palestinians because it is not the fault of the entire Palestinian people that a few individuals are firing rockets across the border (would you want America blamed for a couple individuals attacking another country?). I have no problem blaming the Israelis for the actions of their organized and state-sanctioned military, let alone their US funded arsenal.

It seems the primary moral-crutch the Israelis fell back on during the fighting in Gaza is a sham. According to Amnesty International’s report on the events, Palestinians did not use civilians as “human shields.” On the contrary, the Israelis actually used Palestinians as shields by forcing Palestinian civilians to remain in their homes as the Israeli forces advanced and occupied different sectors.

The death ratios say it all: 13 Israelis killed (including the victims of the rocket attacks which Israel used as their reason for the offensive) versus about 1,400 Palestinians, of which about 300 were children and hundreds more were innocent civilians. These stats also ignore the devastation to the infrastructure also suffered by the Palestinians (which I addressed in a post here, after reading of Jimmy Carter's visit to the region).

Have these people even heard the phrase “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth?” What? They wrote it? Unbelievable…

On a lighter note, I found this hilarious video I thought I would share:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ELyTBXzfQJ8&feature=haxa_popt00us06

Let Them Eat Meat

I wear a lot of t-shirts. I don’t have many political or religiously themed shirts. In fact, the only one I have is my Communist Party shirt, given to me as a gift by my wife. Most depict bands or are humorous.

However, the shirt I wear that gets the most comments is my “Animals Taste Good” shirt. I can find a couple online that are similar, but I’ll post a pic I took of the shirt below:

Basically, I only hear positive feedback. In fact, I hear a lot. Sometimes when I’m wearing a band shirt, someone will say “Nice shirt,” or “Oh, I like Nirvana, too!” However, with the Animals Taste Good shirt, someone will tell me they like it, no matter where I go. I got a comment on it today in the pet store, from someone who WORKS with animals.

What’s odd to me is I don’t get any negative comments. Many vegetarians I’ve known have strong feelings on the matter. While they don’t necessarily care if someone eats meat, they usually oppose fur, so why not shirts promoting the carnivore diet?

In fact, I bought the shirt hoping to unload some of my philosophical differences on nosey vegetarians. I have dated more than one vegetarian, and I’ve spent long hours arguing over both its moral and nutritional validity.

For one thing, vegetarians shouldn’t do it for the animals. Life is life, and vegetarians eat formerly living things, too. Where’s the pity for the soy holocaust that had to occur to make your tofu? And how dare you accuse my food of being overly processed when I have seen soy turned into everything. You think that soy naturally has an imitation meat consistency, or that it gives milk?

Don’t even get me started on cleanliness. Which is cleaner, meat which may have brushed against poop and is then cook at high temperatures, or plants that grow in shit, gets handled by dirty farm hands, and are stored in rat-infested silos for months, only to be briskly washed under cold water by the consumer? I can’t even imagine the diseases festering in the petri dish that is the “raw food” vegan. I won’t even shake their hands.

Eating meat is part of being human. It was an essential part of our evolution. If people seem emotionally attached to their meat, this is probably why. I know that one day, meat may be a rare commodity, but it surely won’t disappear from our diet.

Plus, there’s so much fun you can have with meat. You ever get a bunch of hot wings and wonder if any of the chickens knew each other? What the very idea of a chicken omelet. “Yeah, I’ll have a chicken fried in its own abortion, thanks.” It seems like something Ed Gein or Jeffry Dahmer would order.

I’ll never understand what drives individuals to deprive themselves of meat. “But Ginx, don’t you know what they do to those poor animals?” Yes, and it tastes good.