Feets, Don't Fail Me Now

On Thursday I arrived in Tripoli much later than I'd expected. Our departure from Turkey was delayed  several hours beyond the advertised time, and don't even mention my mistaken 5:00 AM jaunt to the port. When we eventually moored in Lebanon, there was another lengthy wait was the vessel was boarded and the passengers and crew were accounted for. Once we had permission to go ashore, the interview at Customs went relatively quickly. As a Canadian, I received a one month visa, with the possibility to renew it for another month. Unexpectedly, I wasn't charged for this -- on my last trip to Lebanon I had to purchase a tourist visa at the airport. The Lebanese gov't website I consulted before visiting this time indicated that policy is still in effect, although it didn't mention anything about arrivals by sea.

The journey was pleasant enough. There were about a dozen passengers in total, including a few truckers who were bypassing Syria, and two cars with German-Lebanese tourists who had driven 3200 kms in five days in order to spend two weeks on vacation in the home they had left in the 1970s. One of the men had worked as an automotive engineer in Germany, and he was a bit put out at the condition of the ship. It's not that it was obviously unsafe, but it just wasn't up to German standards. When he mentioned possibly writing an email to the shipping company to complain about the delays and the shape of the ship, I laughed and told him he'd been away from Lebanon too long.

Since it was midafternoon when I got out of customs and found WiFi, I decided against walking to the Balamand and instead accepted the offer of a ride from my new German friends. (Two of the three adults were travelling on German passports.) That's when I learned that one of the cars had been purchased and registered in Germany two months ago. Not normally a problem, except that Lebanese import regulations require proof of ownership for at least three months before entering the country with a vehicle. Perhaps my friends could have sprung their vehicle had they been willing to grease a few palms, but as a matter of principle, they wanted to do everything correctly and above-board. (They've been in Germany a looong time!) After waiting several hours, they were informed that only the head of customs for the port had the authority to release the vehicle, and he had gone home for the day. Undaunted, the Germans decided to rent a car for the night, drive down to Beirut, and return in the morning. (This is a much cheaper option than a taxi each way.)

I had been considering taking a few days to walk down to Beirut from Tripoli, but instead I squeezed into the rental car‎ with the others and headed south along the main highway. I'd been amazed at how much Tripoli had grown in the nine years since I'd last seen the city, and the highway has seen corresponding growth. The long stretches of highway with nothing but cliff face to one side and the sea on the other have been replaced with new construction, gas stations, and shops. I was pleasantly surprised that nobody was driving against traffic on the divided highway -- clearly Lebanon has become more orderly in my absence. That's not to imply that the cheerful chaos is absent, just that driving is no longer as life-threatening as it used to be.

Random Thoughts From The Road

Since leaving the long stretch of resorts near Alanya, the past several days have been spent walking for hours on end without seeing so much as a village or petrol station. That has meant packing along a little extra food and water for the day, but it has also meant lots of solitude. Since I have over five hours to kill in Taşucu while waiting for the ferry, here are some of the thoughts with which I have amused myself along the way. Perhaps they'll amuse some of my readers as well -- either that, or confirm that I'm a bit, shall we say, odd.

As a language, Turkish is unlike anything I've attempted to learn before, but like several other languages, its written form is very straightforward. By this I mean, once the alphabet has been mastered, there is no ambiguity in reading what's written. This is very different from English, which is highly irregular. A few examples are in order.

"Does" can rhyme with either foes (The hunter shot three deer: one buck and two does.) or fuzz. (Does that make sense?)

The letter S usually indicates a sibilant (mast), but consider the words Asia, his, and insurance. Try coming up with a simple way of explaining what S sounds like to a person trying to learn the language!

New topic. When I walked the Camino de Santiago in 2010, I set out on my own. It's a very popular pilgrimage route, so even in January and February, I met many pilgrims along the way. Since everyone is following the same path and walking at about the same speed, it's very easy to meet companions either on the road or in the hostels at night. The shared experiences forge a sense of camaraderie, so even if the day is spent walking alone, there are familiar faces at the end of the day, and possibly also at cafés and restaurants along the road. Some of the pilgrims I met were walking with a friend, and they were rarely more than five metres from each other at all times. Other pilgrims walked at their own speed, sometimes with their pilgrimage partners‎ but sometimes on their own, meeting only for meals and at the end of the day. The last five days of my Camino, I wound up walking with a woman from the Czech Republic. She was good company, but there were times when I really just wanted to be alone. My updates from the road were much shorter while I was walking with her, mainly because I did not have the hours of silence to order my thoughts. (Why yes, I am an introvert! How could you tell?)

My decision to walk the Camino crystallised after reading an article in The Walrus magazine. The author and his friend spent many hours in conversation as they walked, but they also had many solitary hours. (And if you're at all interested in pilgrimage, here's the link to the article: http://thewalrus.ca/walking-the-way/ ) When I started planning my current folly, I assumed I would be walking by myself. Not many folks I know are able to take five or six months to go traipsing through two continents, but two people indicated a willingness to do so. I think both of these men would have made excellent travelling companions, but it didn't work out for either of them. Carsten, Peter -- maybe a less demanding trip in the future?

New topic. Although it's been a while since anyone has asked, a common question posed to me has been, "Why walk?" It's certainly easier to ‎use a plane, train, or automobile to get to my destination, and when the cost of daily food and lodging are factored in, motorised transport would also be cheaper. I answered this question in an earlier post (http://phool4XC.blogspot.com/2015/01/why-walk.html), but since then I've realised there's another reason to prefer a walking pilgrimage.

Every great feast in the Orthodox Church is preceded by a period of preparation, marked by fasting and additional church services.  (One regret I have about my current pilgrimage is that I've missed so many of these beautiful services. It was to get to church again that I decided to go directly to Lebanon from Turkey, instead of spending several days walking across Cyprus.)  While the notion of fasting and going to church during the week may be seen as "penance" by some, these are tools for opening our hearts to God. Perhaps penance properly understood has the same function, but to many it smacks more of punishment than preparation.

After Pascha, my favourite feast is that of the Transfiguration of our Lord. Not only does this feast reveal Christ's glory which is His by nature, it shows us what we are all called to become by participation in His grace.  The troparion for this feast begins with "Thou wast transfigured upon the mountain, O Christ our God, showing Thy glory to Thy disciples as far as they were able to sustain."  

This is not to denigrate those who don't have the luxury of spending weeks or months on pilgrimage, but travelling at the human pace of 4 km/h allows the heart to slow down from the frenetic pace of modern life with all its distractions. Arriving by bus, train, or airplane removes the opportunity to prepare for the τέλος of the journey, the "end" both in the sense of completion and goal. Walking a pilgrimage is a means to an end. The traditional Christian understanding of the pilgrimage is always teleological. (Don't know that word? Look it up!) Spending the time walking is a means of preparation for me to celebrate the Resurrection of Christ at the empty tomb. I have not kept the Lenten fast as strictly as I normally do (walking up to 40 kms per day is demanding)‎, but it's my prayer that I will be ready for the Feast of Feasts by the time I arrive in Jerusalem.

And now for something completely different. In anticipation of my upcoming transit to Lebanon, here is a wonderfully cheesy video by one of my favourite ska bands. Wrong continent, but this is "Night Boat to Cairo."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLLL1KxpYMA

All Packed Up With No Place To Go

When I bought my ticket for the ferry to Lebanon, I was told that I needed to be at passport control by five o'clock. When I tried to clarify whether that was AM or PM, the English-speaking clerk told me, "Five. Tomorrow." I should have asked my question in writing - "05:00 or 17:00?"

So now I'm going back to sleep for a few hours!

Farewell to Turkey

It's late and I'm tired, so this will be short.

My GPS app didn't know about the new road between Yaşilovacık and Taşucu, which meant I was on the road an hour less than I had expected. ‎ Walking along the harbour this afternoon, someone greeted me from immediately behind me on the sidewalk. I turned around, and discovered that a clerk at a shipping company had seen me walk past his office and figured I was headed for Cyprus. (Perhaps the backpack gave it away.) I followed him back to the office, bought a ticket on the morning ferry to Tripoli, and then checked into a cheap hotel. I washed some clothes, washed myself, went out and bought some groceries, went out again and had dinner, and now I'm ready to say my prayers and collapse for the night. I'm supposed to be at the port by 5:00 AM for passport control. That's less than eight hours from now, but at least the most strenuous part of tomorrow will be standing in line.

And now, just as a reminder, here is the prayer that Danilo (the Italian boatman ‎on the Via Francigena) hands out to all the pilgrims he ferries across the Po.    

* * * * * * *

Lord God, Thou who hast accompanied and given strength to my feet along the paths and roads around the world, now that I am in front of the ford of the river, help me to cross it, that I may land on the other shore and resume my walk. Help, support and give comfort to the heart of the boatman, protect and defend his boat from the evil waves, so that we can reach the mainland and together raise a hymn to Thy glory. Amen.

30 kms to Taşucu!

Yesterday I stopped walking before sunset and got an early night. It was either that, or continue on for another 25 kms, and I just didn't have it in me.‎ (Well okay, I probably *could* have if necessity had forced me, but thankfully I found a good, inexpensive room and didn't have to explore the limits of my endurance.)  

After several days of logging short distances due to the hills and my general fatigue,‎ I made sure to have a good hearty dinner. In the morning, I ate in my room before heading down for breakfast. This was not gluttony. It was preparation for the 42 kms I was planning to walk today, in order to have a shorter 30 km jaunt to Taşucu on Tuesday. There was still a fair bit of climbing today, but not the constant up and down of the past few days. By midmorning, the road had climbed from sea level‎ to 350 m above, and it was from atop this hill that I caught my first glimpse of Cyprus on the horizon. 

I should probably have checked the ferry schedules before setting out, but at this point I guess it really doesn't matter. I'll arrive at the port when I arrive, and leave on the next boat, whenever that happens to be. I'm really hoping they offer daily service, though, as I'm eager to see Abouna Semaan and his family in Lebanon. I think I'll be able to make it across Cyprus in three days. The airport in Larnaca looks to be a little closer to Nicosia than the nautical port in Limassol. I might even make it to Liturgy in Naccache on Sunday!

The road tomorrow looks like it does a lot of climbing, judging by all the twists. As the crow flies, I'm only 20 kms from my final destination in Turkey, but the road is half again as long.‎ There's a market near the pansiyon where I'm staying, so I'll be able to supplement my breakfast with a few hundred more calories if need be.

That'll be all for now, I'm afraid. I will sleep well tonight!