Tea in Istanbul's Grand Bazaar

A small cafe. A quiet oasis in the midst of Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar.

For an instant in time, all the wonderful chaotic energies of the surrounding labyrinth have been focused into one perfect glass of apple tea.

– with love for the journey.

Photo by Lou Ann Granger, Istanbul, September 2009

Last minute preparations on the eve of a trip to Turkey. In that special time of aggravation, wondering why I’m not more ready, how can all this stuff take so much room and weight and I’m not even bringing everything I want?

And this reluctance to commit to what I am ACTUALLY bringing. There’s always this tiny yet delicious moment of uncertainty and terror before setting out. It’s part of the journey. And I treasure this moment .

– with love for the journey.

Old Postcard, Galata Bridge, Istanbul, Turkey

A sister ship to the African Queen, moored beneath a highway bridge over the Nile near Aswan in Egypt.  How many voyages up and down the river she must have made.  Now she lies still in her mooring, under the uncaring canopy of a modern steel and concrete bridge. 

She has had a most satisfying existence, and doesn’t want you to feel sorry for her.  She waits for that time when someone will free her and take her on new journeys.  She wants to be in motion again, like her ever-flowing river.

– with love for the journey.

Photo by Lou Ann Granger, Egypt, March 2009

Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.

– T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets

Accidental photo alchemy, a hurried photo from a moving bus.  The park in Dominica was full of people on that warm island day.

Best I could do was snap a photo, and try to figure it all out another time.

– with love for the journey.

Photo by Lou Ann Granger, Dominica, April 2008

An early morning image along the Nile River, accidentally turned sideways, suddenly reveals the boundary between the ‘real’ world and a hidden world.    If  you look closely, you can discern the banks of the river on the right and their reflection on the left.

Such a thin boundary.  From this sideways point of view, it is easy to imagine stepping back and forth between the two worlds.

But for now, the mirrored image completely obscures the river’s hidden world.  We see nothing below the surface to let us know the true world of the river, not its contours, nor its life forms, nor its currents.  Instead, we see our own world twice.  What are we missing?

– with love for the journey.

Photo and processing by Lou Ann Granger

The best kind of insomnia, jet-lagged wakefulness on arrival at an exotic location.  A view from my hotel room at the Mena House Oberoi in Cairo in the early dawn hours.

The excitement of watching the pyramids slowly emerge from the shadows as the day begins.  Wondering what adventures the day will bring.  Anything seems possible.

– with love for the journey

Photo by Lou Ann Granger

Beside a busy street in the Giza section of Cairo, our bus passed the fruit stand so quickly that it was almost a blur.  But hidden in the original crummy photo were the faint imprints of the vivid colors I remember.

A little bit of Photoshop photo alchemy, and the transformation captures more accurately the color and feel of that brief moment of memory.

Travel and memory are so closely intertwined in my mind, and I have tried so many ways to capture and preserve those moments.   Journaling, sketching, photos, and more.

It’s never quite enough, though.

– with love for the journey.

Photo and post-processing by Lou Ann Granger

Some signs are for you.  And some signs aren’t for you.

This sign on Eastbound Interstate 70 in eastern Utah doesn’t seem to be for me.  I have pondered and pondered it for several years since first seeing it.  Carefully noted its location about 1 mile east of the Moab turnoff.  Slowed down to try to get a decent picture.

Looked for the corresponding sign on the Westbound I-70.    Discovered it is nearly 40 MILES to the east!

I confess, it is a mystery.  What am I supposed to DO about the “Eagles on Highway”?

Someday I’ll steal this sign and hang it on the wall in the Wanderlust Cafe. Where it might make a whole lot more sense after imbibing some wine or hibiscus juice.

– with love for the journey.

Photo by Lou Ann Granger

I sift through memories and longings and try to discern my intentions for Turkey.

What do I hope to see and do and feel?  Not enough time to fully explore and discover.  I try to send my spirit ahead on this journey so that it will be waiting for me when I arrive.

Leander swimming the Hellespont, Achilles fighting at Troy, Alexander’s armies crossing the Phrygian plain, Artemis holding court at her temple, Crusaders besieging castles, Christians hiding in Cappadoccia, and Rumi teaching in Konya.  Antony and Cleopatra at Selcuk, and Paul preaching to the Ephesians.

This magic land, criss-crossed by the paths of invaders and traders.  Home of long-forgotten peoples and kingdoms, with only fragments of myths and stories surviving.  A turquoise sea and barren landscapes.

I uncover a few words and symbols, but intentions lie hidden behind the mist and fog of longing for now.  Protected beneath layers of yearning.  They will be revealed in due course.  And I will arrive when I arrive.

– with love for the journey.

Visual Journal page by Lou Ann Granger

My heart sings as I contemplate a return.  Istanbul or Constantinople or Byzantium,  this beautiful city straddling the Bosphorus at the crossroads between Europe and Asia has called to me for many years.

Such an aura of mystery and intrigue, a blending of exotic and known.  At this gateway to the unknown, I come again, and ready for another adventure.

It has been eight years, and I saw so little the first time.  Even this next time, in September, it is only a few days, and as part of a larger trip including Kusadasi, Konya and Cappadoccia.

I set forth with intention, to be open to the spirit of this ancient city, and the lingering essence of the many travelers who have passed this way before me.

– with love for the journey

Photo and postprocessing by Lou Ann Granger