Oct

Grand Openings

by Joyce McGreevy on October 9, 2018

A facade in Hobbiton, New Zealand evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

What’s behind doors and windows? In Hobbiton, New Zealand, that’s a trick question!
© Joyce McGreevy

A Cross-Cultural Tour of Doors and Windows Around the World

With more than 12 million posts and counting, doors and windows around the world are among the most shared objects on Instagram. Clearly, doors can be adorable and windows wonderful. But beyond pretty pictures, what cross-cultural stories do doors and windows tell?

A window in Lismore, Ireland evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In Lismore, Ireland, a medieval window has been silent witness to both
Sir Walter Raleigh and John F. Kennedy.
© Joyce McGreevy

A facade in Zagreb, Croatia evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In Zagreb, Croatia, a post-Civil War window showcases the city’s renaissance.
© Joyce McGreevy

When Is a Door Ajar?

Doors can seem ordinary; their job, after all, is to hang around the house. But doors are also sentinels between opposite worlds: the private and the public, the inside and the outside, the secular and the sacred.

Some doors are instantly recognizable even if one has never stood before them. The door at 10 Downing Street, London (despite numerous replacements since 1735). The circular doors of Hobbiton (located in Middle Earth or on a movie set, depending on your level of devotion to Lord of the Rings).

Other doors make you slow your step and wonder, “Now what’s in here?”

A door in Plovdiv, Bulgaria evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In Plovdiv, Bulgaria, butterflies, flowers, and a glimpse of snail mail
turn an ordinary door into visual poetry.
© Joyce McGreevy

Some ancient doors, like the imun of Changdeokgung Palace, declared one’s status. An imun is a set of double doors, but of different heights. In 15th century Korea, only royalty could walk through the taller door.

Some doors are false doors, carved in stone on Egyptian tombs and temples. They can only be passed through in the afterlife.

Doors can have the blues. From the Cycladic islands of Greece to the high deserts of New Mexico, blue doors project complex layers of cultural symbolism, protective yet calm, local yet ethereal.

A collage of entryways in New Zealand, Greece, New Mexico, and Norway evokes the cross-cultural appeal of blue doors. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Clockwise: From Greece to New Mexico, Norway to New Zealand, blue doors enchant us.
© Joyce McGreevy

Doors can be downright contrary with signs like, “This door to remain closed and locked at all times.” At ALL times? But what if we need to—oh, never mind. We’ll just climb out through the window.

Keleti Train Station in Budapest, Hungary evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

At Keleti Train Station, Budapest, windows evoke grand visions of travel.
© Joyce McGreevy

Open Your Wind-Eyes

The origin of the word windows is a doorway into poetry. It comes from Old Norse and Frisian phrases that mean “wind-eye” and “breath-door.” Contained in those words is the history of the window, from unglazed hole in the roof, a way to draw breath into your body, to grand portal, a way to inspire, or “draw spirit into” your soul.

Oh, I see: The most basic objects can be storehouses of cultural history.

A crumbling old house Siletz Bay Wildlife Refuge Center, Oregon evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Carolyn McGreevy)

A former home in Siletz Bay Wildlife Refuge Center, Oregon opens the door to nature.
© Carolyn McGreevy

Breaking (or Bricking) Glass

Ever heard the expression “daylight robbery”? In the late 1600s, new technology was making it easier to produce glass windows. Soon windows were opening up a whole new world for homeowners.

English King William III saw this as his window of opportunity.

In 1696, he levied a window tax. The more glass windows one had, the more tax one paid, with rates increasing exponentially. Some people registered their protests— and avoided the higher rate—by bricking up a strategic number of windows.

A glass wall in Copenhagen, Denmark evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

What would King William III have thought of this window-wall in Copenhagen?
© Joyce McGreevy

These Cross-Cultural Traditions Hinge on Doors

In the Chinese custom of men shén, images of the Door Gods Shen Shu and Yu Lei are displayed on doors as guardians of all within.
Some door customs come with door prizes. In Finland, the custom was for brides to go door-to-door collecting wedding gifts in a pillowcase.
In Poland, if you can’t find something in your house, go to the nearest closed door and speak through it to the Skrzaty, friendly elves who live in nooks and crannies.
Skeptical? Next time you lose your reading glasses, tell the Skrzaty, “Play and put away!” Then prepare to be amazed when you find your specs right on top of your head.

A winter street scene in Bend, Oregon evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Windows in Bend, Oregon keep winter outside.
© Joyce McGreevy

A living room in Evanston, Illinois evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Windows in Evanston, Illinois invite summer inside.
©Joyce McGreevy

Word Windows, Discovery Doors

Doors and windows give us many cross-cultural idioms and sayings.

In Turkey, “Kind words unlock an iron door” and “Create a window from one heart to another.”
In China, “Teachers open the door; you enter by yourself,” and “Learning a language is like having another window from which to see the world.”
In France, “Everyone sees noon from his own door” (Chacun voit midi à sa porte). We each have our own perspective, our personal window on life.
Speaking of unique perspective, an early “life hack” from my own Irish culture reminds us, “Never bolt your door with a boiled carrot.” Especially if you’ve buttered it.

A street scene in Co. Cork, Ireland evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In the Ireland of my youth a knock at the door meant
“Sounds like visitors. Put the kettle on!”
© Joyce McGreevy

In Closing, Stay Open

Doors and windows can open up new worlds, or reframe and transform a world we thought we knew. As you close the door on this modest cross-cultural tour, hold fast to the key of observation. For doors and windows around the world have stories to tell and wonders to reveal.

An exterior view of the Nobel Peace Center, Oslo, Norway evokes the cross-cultural stories of doors and windows. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In Oslo, Norway, windows bring the light of hope when the world seems dark.
© Joyce McGreevy

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Crossing Cultures/Cultural Symbols/The World's Art & Design/Worldwide Sites

Aug

Rendezvous à la Turk

by Joyce McGreevy on August 27, 2018

A young Turkish American girl celebrates her heritage at the Turkish Arts and Culture Festival in Monterey, California. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Derya Bolgün, age 10, welcomes you to the Turkish Arts and Culture Festival
in Monterey, California.
© Joyce McGreevy

A Cultural Festival Calls Forth Memories

You won’t need sugar in your fincan kahve (cup of coffee) this morning. Şekerpare, a delicate cookie made with semolina, almonds, and love, delivers the sweetness. So, inhale the rich aroma and galvanize your senses with robust brew. If you closed your eyes, you could be in Istanbul.

But you’re at a Turkish cultural festival in Monterey, California.

Pastries like Sekerpare and irmik helvasa connect Turkish Arts and Culture Festival in Monterey, California to the author’s memories of Istanbul. (Images © Joyce McGreevy/ Ceren Abi)

Is baklava Turkish or Greek? Depends on whom you ask. Şekerpare (center) and irmik helvasa (right)
reflect culinary traditions of Turkey’s Ottoman Empire.
© Joyce McGreevy (L)/ Ceren Abi (R)

Re(sound)

Oh, I see: At cultural festivals, details evoke worlds. At Monterey’s Custom House Plaza, the percussive rhythm of the davul and the string-song of a bağalama become a soundtrack for Turkish memories.

Young women at the Turkish Arts and Culture Festival in Monterey, California reflect the exuberance of Turkish line dancing and inspire memories of Istanbul. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Young women in Monterey, California reflect the exuberance of Turkish line dancing.
© Joyce McGreevy

Every note I hear is layered with sounds remembered:

The singsong pitch of street vendors and the sonorous calls-to-prayer of the muezzin; the miyav (meow) of sociable kediler (cats); the sparkling humor and plaintive beseeching of TV soap operas; the clatter of plates and clink of glasses at a meyhane; the buzz and bump of motorbikes on cobbled alleys; the banter of fishermen at the Galata Bridge amid the commentary of seagulls.

As if on cue, a colony of seagulls above Monterey Bay choruses raucously, bringing my senses back to California.

Re(scene)

At a cultural festival a single image can reassemble memory’s mosaic. I spot a display of nazar boncuğu, blue glass eye beads. Traditionally, these talismans warded off misfortune’s “evil eye” by staring boldly back, commanding misery to come no closer. In reality, Turks collect them mostly for their beauty and to give as gifts.

A display case of nazar boncuğu, blue glass eye beads, connect a Turkish Arts and Culture Festival in Monterey, California with the author’s memories of Istanbul. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The eyes have it: Shown here in Monterey, nazar boncuğu are everywhere in Turkey.
© Joyce McGreevy

Seen in Monterey, the blue beads trigger a montage of memories: The blue-tiled Rüstem Paşa Mosque, bluer even than Istanbul’s more famous Blue Mosque. The azure blue of summer sky as you ferry across the steel blue Bosporus from Istanbul’s European side to its Asian side. The intense dark blue of lapis lazuli in a jeweler’s window. The shimmering blue of peacocks in a palace garden. Blue-black figs at an open-air market.

Re(word)

One 15th-century word encapsulates the entire spectrum of blues that first dazzled travelers in Turkey. The French pronounced it tur-KWAZ.

Yes, turquoise, or literally, “Turkish.” Today, we reserve that word for the bluish-green stone mined in arid regions of Turkey, America’s Southwest, and elsewhere. “Phosphate of copper and aluminum” lacks a certain poetry.

A collage of scenes in Istanbul and Bodrum reflects the prevalence of the color blue in Turkish arts and culture. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The color blue is prevalent throughout Turkey.
© Joyce McGreevy

A Thirst for Memories

Turkish wines are superb, but it’s too early to sample them. And other beverages offer their own complexities. A glass of gold is made using two stacked kettles, the lower kettle to boil the water, the top to warm the loose-leaf çay, or tea. Tulip-shaped glasses are essential.

A glass of Turkish tea at a cultural festival in Monterey, California inspires memories of Istanbul, Turkey. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Serve Turkish tea in glasses to assess its strength and admire its color.
© Joyce McGreevy

Now let’s order lunch and ayran (EYE-rahn), a salty, ice-cold yogurt drink. It’s an acquired taste, but a refreshing one, too. The savory, restorative counterpart to the American milkshake.

Two men cook Turkish food, one at a cultural festival in Monterey, California and one in Istanbul. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In tiny pop-up kitchens, two chefs—one in Monterey, one in Istanbul—satisfy hungry crowds.
© Joyce McGreevy

Ne yemek istersin? “What would you like to eat?” Turkish cuisine goes way beyond doner kebap. It reflects two continents, a host of regional, seasonal variations, and the experiences of 2,000 centuries. From palatial restoranları to rickety stands on street corners, Turkish kitchens produce some of the world’s most splendid fare.

uyers, sellers, and Turkish ceramics at at a cultural festival in Monterey, California form a colorful collage of Istanbul street scenes. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Colorful Turkish ceramics in Monterey (upper left) recall a feast of colors in Istanbul.
© Joyce McGreevy

The Taste of Memories

Turkish breakfast is a lavish affair, a beautifully constructed spread of the finest regional cheeses, cured olives, egg dishes, rose jam, and more. But nothing inspires morning rapture quite like simit. It is to Turkey what the croissant is to Paris—deceptively simple and simply superb.

To find simit in Turkey, just look for the man wheeling a red trolley or balancing a tray stacked ten tiers high. In the U.S., simit is increasingly available at Mediterranean delis and bakeries, including Monterey’s International Market.

Served fresh and warm, simit are downright inspiring. They have even inspired the noun can simidi (jahn SIH-mihd-ee)—the name for the ring-shaped life preservers on Turkish ferries.

Simit at a cultural festival in Monterey, California inspires memories of Istanbul, Turkey. (Image © Ceren Abi)

The perfect Turkish breakfast begins with simit, a circular bread encrusted with sesame seeds.
© Ceren Abi

Turkish Memory Lane

By now even a passing California car inspires Turkish reverie: While driving from Istanbul to Bodrum, my Turkish relatives and I stop at the town of Ortaklar. Ortaklar’s main street is lined with carwashes, but each represents only half of a family-owned business. I discover the other half when we pull into Necati’nin Yeri.

While the car is seen to, we join festive diners at long tables under shade trees and canopies. Dish after exquisite dish arrives, and a young man slides flat rounds of dough into an outdoor oven, where they puff up like balloons. This is lavas (lah-VAHSH), so irresistible it’s a wonder the customers don’t puff up like balloons, too.

Recalling this feast, I momentarily conflate thoroughly Turkish fare and American thoroughfares. Oh right, I’m in Monterey, California, not Ortaklar. But everything is redolent with the sweet confusion of memories.

Two street scenes, one during a cultural festival in Monterey, one in Istanbul, celebrate Turkish culture. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

On a day in August, families stroll in Monterey and Istanbul. Can you tell which is which?
© Joyce McGreevy

The Taste of Turkish Words

I savor, too, the taste of Turkish words. A cultural festival offers the chance to practice. The Turkish language is considered fiendishly difficult to learn, but I disagree. Difficult to master, sure, but that’s true of any language. The spelling of modern Turkish is largely phonetic, so once you recognize differences in the alphabet and get the hang of certain sounds, you might be surprised at how quickly you catch on.

It begins with Merhaba (MEHR-hah-bah). Hello!

Fisherman’s Wharf Monterey inspires a visitor to a nearby Turkish cultural festival ito recall a similar scene at the Bosporus in Istanbul. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Left to right: On Monterey Bay and Istanbul’s Bosporus, friendly people go with the flow.
© Joyce McGreevy

Learning to say hello, surely that’s the takeaway of cultural festivals. Hello to the connections between here and there, past and present, you and me. Merhaba to families strolling along the Bosporus and families strolling along Monterey Bay. Hello, Merhaba, and Welcome to whatever connects us all.

Thank you to Ceren Abi for contributing to this article. Seni seviyorum, Ceren!

See more of the Monterey Turkish Arts and Culture Festival here.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

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Crossing Cultures/Language & Culture/Turkey/USA

May

Time Travel Adventures

by Joyce McGreevy on May 7, 2018

Skydivers over Queenstown, New Zealand inspire the author to consider the true nature of time travel. (Image © New Zealand Tourism)

There are many ways to fly to Queenstown, New Zealand.
© New Zealand Tourism

Finding New Perspective
in New Zealand

Do you remember Tuesday, April 3, 2018? I don’t. I never experienced it.

A man, with his dog, who has slept through the alarm may soon wish he could time travel. (Image © iStock/WebSubstance)

No, I didn’t forget to set the alarm.
© iStock/WebSubstance

A woman falling on the ice inspires thoughts of time travel adventures. (Image © iStock/Astrid860)

Nope. Wasn’t in a coma.
© iStock/Astrid860

I just had one of those time travel adventures.

Crossing the Line

Every day, thousands of westbound airline passengers leapfrog over an entire day. They take off from, say, Oakland on a Monday and land in Auckland on a Wednesday.

Yet only 14 hours have passed.

Which really crosses a line.

No, really. It’s what happens when you cross the International Date Line. The line is imaginary, but the effects are real.

Global Gazing

Remember when everyone’s home had a globe? In the 1960s, advanced technology meant that through the magic of electricity and a toggle switch, a globe could light up from the inside. Whoa!

An illuminated globe inspires an author in New Zealand to consider the true nature of time travel. (Image © iStock/Vrobelpeter1)

If you were a kid back then, you gazed in awe at the illuminated raised relief, marveling at mountains and the depths of the bright blue oceans.

And wondered what that line meant.

Dust off that globe now and you’ll see that the International Date Line isn’t a fixed line. It zigzags giddily to either side of 180 degrees longitude like the wake of a drunken sailor.

A map showing the International Date Lines illuminated globe inspires an author in New Zealand to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image in the public domain)

In 2011 Samoa skipped Dec. 30 by “moving” to the NZ side of the International Date Line.

If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Wednesday

Some of Magellan’s sailors probably thought they’d knocked back a pint too many after their own time travel adventure in 1522. As Antonio Pigafetta reported:

On Wednesday, the ninth of July, we arrived at . . . Santiago . . . And we charged our men in the boat that, when they were ashore, they should ask what day it was. They were answered that to the Portuguese it was Thursday, at which they were much amazed.

So amazed that, once Magellan’s impeccable record keepers figured it out, they sent a special delegation to alert the Pope. He, in turn, was so amazed that he called a conference. A mere three centuries later, the International Date Line became official. The boundary between one day and the next was set.

Racing to Places

By definition, travel is moving from one place to another place. Like a token on a game board, you advance from Country A to Country B.

For some, travel is a competitive game. Recently, travel magazines profiled a woman whose mission is to become the fastest person to visit all 195 of the world’s sovereign countries.

A woman racing toward travel symbols inspires an author in New Zealand to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © TK)

Places in Time

But travel is also about time. Exploring it, experiencing it.

Time travel lights up the raised relief map of your brain, revealing the Valley of Jet Lag and the Mountains of Giddy Realization: I’m here! I’m on the other side of the planet!

It toys with your internal clock, making you narcoleptic at noon, insomniac at midnight, and ravenous at four a.m.

It makes you silly: “Greetings from the Future!” you text your family, who are back in that earlier time zone.

A text message about coffee in Christchurch, New Zealand inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A text message about coffee in Lincoln City, Oregon inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © Carolyn McGreevy)

It makes you grin: As a traveling freelancer in New Zealand, you’re one day ahead of U.S. deadlines. Yippee!

It makes you hyper-aware: After clearing customs in Auckland, you enter the bustling airport café. It’s 5 a.m. local time, yet the woman who hands you a mug of coffee sings, “Here you are, lovey” with a bright-eyed smile.

A night skyline of Auckland, New Zealand inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

It makes you think: While you were snoozing over the South Pacific, she was catching her bus in Manukau, the dim silhouettes of suburban bungalows slowly un-fuzzing as dawn edged over Hauraki Gulf to etch steel and glass towers against the sky.

Oh, I see: Below the surface of what we experience and exchange lie the complex route maps of all our time travel adventures.

A Planet for All Seasons

In crossing the International Date Line, I’ve also crossed from the Northern to the Southern Hemisphere. Like other imaginary map lines, its effects are real. As I write this in May, it’s autumn in New Zealand.

Autumn leaves at the River Avon in Christchurch, New Zealand inspire an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures.(Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Across New Zealand, forests are ablaze with autumn, their vibrant leaves glowing against snow-capped volcanic peaks. New arrivals from the Northern Hemisphere say, “Oh, the seasons are reversed.”

But are they? Or is this another example of Earth’s symmetry? As spring surges toward summer in one half, autumn yields to winter in the other half.

As Earth’s seasons perform their balancing act, we humans seek an impossible balance between defying time and deferring to it. What if we simply observed its presence and its passage?

ake Tekapo in the Mackenzie Basin, New Zealand inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures.(Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Imagine if your travels through a place were moment-to-moment. Imagine that, in the time it takes for the world’s fastest traveler to blaze a record-breaking trail through dozens of countries, you were still meandering along, savoring the slowly shifting here and now.

World’s Slowest Traveler?

The number of countries I’ve covered in 5 weeks plus the number I’ll visit in the next 7 add up to a grand total of (drum roll) . . . one. Over the coming weeks, I’ll share stories of New Zealand, from its staggering natural beauty to its wonderful people.

A starry sky in Castlepoint, Wairarapa, New Zealand inspires an author to consider the true nature of time travel adventures. (Image © Daniel Rood and New Zealand Tourism)

Until then, imagine that each of us was traveling on the surface of an illuminated globe. Imagine that every night we sailed through an ocean of stars, and every morning we woke up in a place of new possibilities.

Just think of all the time travel adventures we could have.

An antique clock inspires an author in New Zealand to consider the true nature of time travel. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Why is New Zealand vanishing from world maps? Solve the mystery in this hilarious video featuring NZ Prime Minister Jacinda Adern, here.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 3 Comments

Adventure Travel/Crossing Cultures/New Zealand/Secrets to Life

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Grand Openings