Via Prague: Toward Olympus (see story below photo)

bursa17[1].jpg

Heading toward Mount Olympus ... What else could you be doing on a wet, cold first Monday in November? It could be a lot worse.
You're on a Kamil Koc bus from Istanbul to Izmir, a coastal city overlooking the Aegean. Not that Izmir is your destination, not today anyway. No, today it's Bursa, or Prusa, as it was called in ancient Greek times (202 BC to be exact). Located directly across the Sea of Marmara from Istanbul, and with a population of 2.5 million, Bursa is Turkey's third largest city.
Actually before I get carried away with the second person perspective and high-flown ledes, I should qualify that we're headed toward the ancient Mysian Mount Olympus, which I suspect is not quite the same as the Greek Olympus.Also it's known today as Mount Uludağ.
Still, it's an Olympus, if not the Olympus, and at any rate, being here in Asia Minor, the same general ballpark.
The past few days were really awful, a steady rain, chilly winds and a constant iron sky had signaled the end of the Indian summer and the beginning of winter. As the bus set off from Istanbul the rain and heavy skies persisted. My contact, Kenan, arranged to catch the same bus and we rode together. The bus conveniently had a bar (but regrettably not an ounce of alcohol) and as we got going out of Istanbul a young man in a vest and white shirt went down the aisle serving tea and coffee and small cookies in cellophane wrappers.
After an hour or so we arrived at the ferry station, where we would be transported across the Sea of Marmara to the city of Yalova and continue our journey to Bursa. The ferry station was lined with cars, trucks and buses waiting to catch the big ferries, which because of the foul weather were the only ones operating. The sea itself was relatively calm but colored a hard grey, and a mist covered much of the far shore. Our ferry was large enough to comfortably accommodate more than half a dozen buses, a couple of trucks and a fleet of cars. There was an upper deck, where most people headed as soon as the ferry got underway, that boasted a spacious lounge, a small cafe and high seaward views. Most people sat inside because of the chill, and drank tea and ate tosts and rolls from the cafe.
Kenan had a few calls to make, so while he did that I bought a tost, a cup of tea and a roll and went out on deck. A squadron of sea birds were keeping pace with the ferry, gliding in the wind, hovering and diving. A young man in a black pea coat was tossing pieces of bread and birds were snatching them in mid-air with murderous accuracy. I joined in and within minutes, the large roll was gone, prey to the flock.
Back in the lounge it was warm and cozy. I chatted awhile with Kenan. We looked west toward the open sea, the gateway to the Aegean. I asked Kenan how far Izmir was and he pointed toward the southwest and said it was about four hours. From there you can get boats over to Lesbos and myriad other Greek isles. It was a shame the day was so bleak and grey; you could see how in summertime the sea here would reflect the honeyed glory of its neighbors.
Kenan directed my focus across the sea toward Yalova.
"You know it used to be part of Istanbul," he explained. "But now it's its own city. Have you heard about the 1999 earthquake, the big one? The center of it was there in Yalova. Many buildings were destroyed and damaged."
I had read about the earthquake, which also inflicted heavy damage in Istanbul (more than 15,000 people were killed in that city). And having lived in Northern California for more than a decade, I'd lived in earthquake country before. Still, the prospect of experiencing an earthquake here in Turkey, with its more than dodgy infrastructure, dense populations and overdeveloped urban centers, was rather frightening.
"But in Bursa it was not so bad," Kenan was quick to say.
Presently the ferry arrived at Yalova and the bus rolled on. Yalova is a relatively small city with a residential feel, rows of low buildings and tree-lined streets; we drove along the inevitable Atatürk Avenue (nearly all Turkish cities have a main road named after Mustafa Kemal, the founder of the modern Turk state) and soon were out of the city and the road began to rise and we were up in high green hills, the early mountains that were our destination. It had stopped raining but a thick grey mist draped over the hills. The bus, dark and whispery, felt like being in the cinema; most people drowsed or listened to mp3 players.
The low, rising mountains, still a bright and rich green so late in the year, were not unlike the mountains I'd seen in Moravia andr Slovakia, wide open and hikeable. As the bus wound through the hills, the distant skies went through several stages of dark and light, like watching pictures develop. The Sea of Marmara, which I thought we'd left behind at the ferry, suddenly appeared again far to the right, and then as we rounded another set of hills we began to see dense stretches of small green trees on both sides of the motorway.
I tapped Kenan in front of me and pointed to the trees. Lifting his earphone, he nodded sleepily.
"Oh yes, olive trees. They are quite famous here."
For miles the olive trees blanketed the hillsides, rising and falling with the slopes and as we continued on the landscape really opened up and whatever resemblance there was to Moravia vanished and you realized this was Anatolia. We passed gas stations, many of them painted a nationalistic red and white, clusters of shabby identical dwellings rose here and there like lonely outpost stations. Later on the Sea of Marmara caught up with us again, this time on the right side of the motorway. From a distance the freighters looked motionless on an oily sea, like in a painting. We'd rounded the coastline from Yalova and now were in a broad valley; cathedral rays of sunlight dropped through the clouds and the olive groves raced along, keeping even pace with the bus.
We passed a timber mill, and later a small mosque (only one minaret). I wanted to ask Kenan more questions but I could see he wanted to enjoy the ride. Istanbul felt very far away now, and there was only the hum of the road and the silver noise of iPods on drowsy heads. We passed a huge McDonald's billboard, which seemed out of place, and other signs that were in Turkish, and of course now and again the star and crescent of the Turkish flag, another dome and minaret and more open hills and olive groves.
We arrived in Bursa about three-thirty. The bus terminal was on the onskirts of town. On the way in we passed an Ikia outlet, and several car detailers (a reminder that modern Bursa is the country's chief auto manufacturer).
The initial drive into the city is flat, monotonous, ugly, not that the dismal weather helped the portrait. I could rapidly feel my anticipation give way to disappointment, though I was careful not to let Kenan see it. Still, for a long while I felt duped. It seemed that the town was Siberia mixed with a touch of Toledo charm, a flat stripville nowhere of low buildings, service stations and outlet stores. Even my Mount Olympus seemed to have vanished, like a disgraced king fleeing into exile.
"You can't see it right now because of the fog," Kenan explained.
We arrived in the center of the city and found the EF school, located in a tall office building. After meeting Ayda, the wife of the owner, Achmed (the couple own a trade company, the school is a new enterprise), Kenan told me I was free to explore for a couple hours before we were taken to our hotel.
Outside it was already late afternoon. The air definitely had a brisk, alpine feel. It had cleared somewhat, and I could make out the contours of the mountains, and the other parts of the city rising up and down with the mountains, and began to pick up enthusiasm again. I realized that after all, most cities locate their airports and bus terminals in really ugly parts of town; my initial impression had been skewed. Now I could see it was a city built along the sides of the mountains; for the time being these mountains, Olympus among them, were further up and obscured, but that presently they would reveal themselves. At any rate, there was a lot more to be seen come morning.

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Okay, time to roust you out
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still in Prague? Just visiting Istanbul? Did you contact our friend in Istanbul?

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Hi Dave you haven't been reading ha ha! I have been in Turkey two months now ...the Istanbul job had complications so after a month there I relocated to the city of Bursa just across the Sea of Marmara from Istanbul. How are things with you?

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