Buying Gifts for The Girl

Note: I’ve been back in the United States for almost two weeks, but still have one last story to tell about my trip to Turkey. I haven’t been able to share it before now because some of it was secret.

Sometimes it feels like Istanbul is one giant flea market. People are selling things everywhere, not just in shops, but also on street corners. Istanbul is home to the Grand Bazaar, which is basically a 1000-year-old shopping mall where men sell carpets, fake watches, and cheap scarves. It’s a tourist trap. But there’s a dizzying array of other vendors throughout the city. It’s crazy.

When I was getting ready to travel to Turkey, I asked Kim if she wanted me to bring her anything. “Some nice, fluffy towels,” she told me. No problem. Or so I thought. But with so many people selling things, it’s hard to know who’s selling quality goods and who’s just ripping you off.

Fortunately, one of my guidebooks had a paragraph about a new shop selling towels, a shop known for its quality. The place was called Jennifer’s Hamam. Jennifer is from Canada and “hamam” is the Turkish word for bath. Just my luck: Jennifer’s Hamam was within walking distance of the hotel in Istanbul.

When Nick and I were in Istanbul at the start of the trip, I stopped by Jennifer’s Hamam. It was filled with towels and soap and scarves. I spent half an hour talking with Jennifer herself. She explained that the’s the only store in the world working with the last of the Turkish families who make these products by hand using the old methods and all organic materials. She demonstrated how the products she sells are superior to the cheaper things in other stores.

I wasn’t ready to buy then, and I told her so, but I promised to come back when I returned to Istanbul at the end of my trip.

Before I left, Jennifer suggested I stop by Denizen Coffee, a place that serves American coffee (impossible to get here) and owned by a couple of guys from San Francisco. Before I left for central Turkey, I stopped in twice and chatted with Ken, one the owners, while drinking coffee and eating chocolate.

As Nick and I traveled around Turkey, I looked for other towels and scarves. Nothing I found matched the quality in Jennifer’s Hamam. I found some nice scarves to give to friends, but nothing like the ones Jennifer sells. So, when I returned to Istanbul, I went back to Jennifer’s Hamam and made a big purchase.

I bought Kim the towels that she requested…but I also bought nice scarves for Kim and for Kris (my ex-wife).

A pile of gifts for Kimberly

At this point, I thought I was done shopping for The Girl. I was wrong. On my last afternoon in Istanbul, I was taking a break at Denizen Coffee again, just as I had the day before. As always, Ken started chatting with me.

“You look glum,” he said.

“I miss my girlfriend. I haven’t seen her in three weeks,” I said, and I explained the situation, about how I planned this trip before Kim and I started dating.

“You should get her something nice,” he said.

“I have,” I said. “I got her some silk from Jennifer’s Hamam. I wanted to get her some jewelry, but I don’t know anything about it. And everything I see in the shops looks fake. It’s all the same.”

Ken smiled. “I know just the place for you,” he said. “Do you have some time?” I said I did. “Good,” he said. “Stay here. I know an artist who makes real jewelry.”

A few minutes later, a woman appeared in the store. She introduced herself as Nazan. “I’m a sculptor,” she said, “but I can’t make money in Turkey with my art. Turkish people don’t appreciate it. So, I make jewelry instead. Every piece is hand-crafted. When I can, I re-use antique stones and metal. Come. Follow me to my house. I’ll show you.”

She led me through Istanbul’s winding streets. After ten minutes, we reached an unassuming door. She opened it and ushered me inside. “When I bought this place, it was a ruin,” she said. “I remodeled it myself, the design and the work.”

I ooohed and aaahed. The place was beautiful. The entryway was made of stone pebbles that looked like they’d been taken from the nearby seashore. Blue rocks were interspersed with the grey to create a pattern. The two flights of stairs were made from gorgeous, golden wood. Everything was perfect — except the door to her outside balcony, which was only about 5-1/2 feet high, causing me to bump my head pretty hard.

“Sit,” Nazan said, motioning to a chair on the balcony. “I will bring you my art.”

She brought out a box filled with ziploc bags. Inside each ziploc bag was a piece of jewelry she had made. Some bags contained necklaces. Some contained earrings. Some pendants, some bracelets, some rings.

“How much are these?” I asked. “They’re beautiful.”

Nazan shrugged. “All different prices,” she said. “How much do you want to spend?”

“I spent all I wanted to spend yesterday at Jennifer’s Hamam,” I said. “But maybe I could find a few hundred dollars.” That would mean changing some of my other plans, but I wanted to see what she was offering.

“Let’s look,” she said, and she began pulling jewelry from ziploc bags. The stuff was gorgeous.

“Can I take photos?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “Please no.” (But you can see some photos on Facebook.)

I spent an hour going over Nazan’s jewelry. I loved it. I’m not a fan of jewelry, actually. (I do like Kim’s taste in jewelry, but that’s unusual.) Nazan’s jewelry was different. I felt drawn to it, as if it had some sort of vital energy. But everything was so expensive!

“Don’t think about money now,” Nazan told me, which made me laugh. She frowned. “Think about what you like. Think about money later.”

I could go on forever describing the time I spent on Nazan’s balcony. It was a unique experience. Eventually, I found two necklaces and three bracelets that I thought Kim might like — and that I could afford. Ultimately, my decision came down to the two necklaces. I was sure Kim would like the less expensive necklace. It featured two yellow eye agates, one above the other. It would have been perfect.

The necklace I liked But I really liked the second piece: An uncut garnet still in its motherstone, which was set in a silver frame with four interesting symbols. This piece was more expensive, and I wasn’t sure that Kim would like it. I mean, it seemed like something she’d wear, but what if I misjudged?

In the end, I bought the necklace. I loved it, and I wanted to see Kim wearing it. We arranged a price, but there was a complication.

“All of my money is at the hotel,” I said. “It’s ten minutes away by foot.”

“No problem,” Nazan said. “Here, take the necklace. Go get the money. Meet me at the coffeehouse.”

An American shopowner would never do such a thing, but in Turkey? It happens all the time. There is a strong cultural taboo against theft here. It’s unthinkable, and it creates a strange sense of trust. (On the other hand, anything goes before you agree on a price. A Turk will think nothing of charging you $100 for a $10 lamp. That’s fair. But once the deal is made, it’s a case of complete trust.)

I walked back to the hotel and then up to the coffeeshop. I gave Nazan her money and thanked the owner of the coffeehouse for connecting me with her.

Nazan shows off the necklace I bought for Kim

And note that all of this started — the towels, the coffee place, and the jewelry woman — because my guidebook said that to get good towels I ought to go to Jennifer’s Hamam.

Footnote: I’m pleased to say that the Kim likes the necklace — and it looks great on her!

Virginia Eden Swartzendruber: 1942 – 2012

While my cousin Nick and I are touring Turkey, there’s sad news from the family back home. My aunt Virginia has died.

This wasn’t unexpected — Virginia was fading for a long time — but it hurts nonetheless. Virginia was the last of my father’s family still alive. More than that, she was a great person.

My aunt Virginia (age 4) pulling my father (age 1) in a wagon — summer 1946

Virginia Eden Roth was born on 20 February 1942. I don’t know much about her life as girl. I do know that she was sixteen when she got married. At Get Rich Slowly, Virginia once shared this story of her life as a newlywed:

On Christmas Eve 1958, I had been married two months and seven days.

We were sixteen and eighteen — young but in love. Pop had a good job in a mobile home factory. The pay was $2.10 per hour. They gave him a week off for our honeymoon. On Monday morning, ten days after we were married, he went back to work, worked three days and was laid off for the winter.

We had no groceries in the house because we were waiting for payday, so the first thing we did was go shopping. The cupboards were bare, so we needed everything. The total bill came to $28. That included flour, sugar, butter, bread, lunch meat, and all the spices, plus whatever else one needs to stock a cupboard.

Through the fall and early winter Pop worked at odd jobs for his dad, who was self-employed buying wool, cow and deer hides, cascara bark, beaver pelts and other furs. Pop and a friend also cut wood for my dad. Dad paid them $6.00 a cord, and by splitting it two ways they each got $3.00 per cord. We stayed with my folks about five or six weeks during the time he was working for Dad.

Eventually, we went back home and Pop started working for his brother, who was a trapper. Pop’s job was to skin the beaver and stretch it tight on a board, in a circle (like a woman would a doily), and hold it with nails around the outside of the circle so it would keep its shape. When the pelt was dried it was in a stiff circle. Pop was paid $3.00 per pelt when it was done.

The day before Christmas — December 24, 1958 — Pop went to work. We were broke as usual. It was Christmastime, but we had no money for gifts. It was our first Christmas. I don’t remember what time he left for work, but he completed two pelts making $6.00.

Rushing, he managed to get home by 4:15. The stores closed at 5:00 on Christmas Eve. By the time we got to town it was 4:30. He gave me $3.00 and he took $3.00, and we went shopping. I bought him a pretty shirt. He bought me a beautiful lamp that hung on the wall.

So was our first Christmas. We were young and in love. We had each other, and who needed fancy gifts?

Virginia and Stan had nine children. My cousins include Robin, Tammy (familiar to many long-time readers), Gwen, Laurie, Valerie, Scott, Ted, Mart, and Ben. In March 2003, the last time I tallied the numbers, Virginia had 49 grandchildren. I’m sure that number is higher now, and that she probably even had great-grandchildren.

Like many in the Roth family, Virginia was an entrepreneur. For a long time, she operated a catering business out of her home in Estacada. She baked wedding cakes and catered weddings (including the wedding of my brother Jeff and his wife, Steph). She (and her family) actually catered more than just weddings, but that was the mainstay of their business.

But Virginia also loved photography, and that eventually became her staple business. She traveled the country making beautiful photos, which she sold to companies for jigsaw puzzles and calendars and postcards. She also created her own line of successful cards featuring these photos — many of which included her grandchildren — and sold the cards at stores and gift shops throughout the northwest.

Above everything, Virginia was a Christian woman, and I mean that in the best possible way. Many Christians aren’t very Christ-like. But Virginia was. For this, I always respected and admired her. She was warm and caring and loving and kind. I always felt welcomed by her, even though I knew that my choices were vastly different than the ones she would make.

My aunt Virginia was good person. A great person.

My aunt Virginia (age 64) on the lawn at Rosings Park — summer 2006

As I said, Virginia’s death wasn’t unexpected. In fact, the family has been preparing for this for almost eighteen months. In June of last year, my cousin Mart brought me two boxes of slides, a cassette tape of hymns, and a script. Virginia had composed a slide show (set to music) featuring her own photographs. She wanted it shown at her funeral. I converted the tape and slides to DVD and the presentation up into separare video segments (one for each song).

This video is one of sixteen that made up that slideshow. I can’t share the other videos (they contain copyrighted music), but this one features Virginia’s daughters on vocals. It’s a family production: Virginia’s images, her daughters’ voices (Robin, Tammy, and Gwen), and my video editing.

Twilight is Stealing

Somehow, it seems like a fitting farewell to a wonderful woman.

Gencon Indy 2011

At GenCon, there were many vendors with many dice. This vendor’s dice were awesome.

As a life-long geek, I’ve always wanted to attend GenCon, one of the world’s most prominent gaming conventions. I remember reading about it as a boy and wishing I could go play Dungeons and Dragons with all of the older geeks. So, when Adam Baker (Man vs. Debt) invited me to visit Indianapolis to attend GenCon 2011 with him, I jumped at the chance.

For four days starting last Thursday, Adam and his wife (Courtney) allowed me to tag along with them as we joined tens of thousands of other nerds to play (and purchase) games.

We split a lot of our time among two rooms: the Mayfair room and the Rio Grande room. Mayfair produces games like Tigris & Euphrates, Empire Builder, and The Settlers of Catan. Rio Grande’s games include Dominion, Power Grid, and Carcassonne.

We played some of our old favorites (I actually won at Settlers, a game I normally loathe), but mostly we tried new games. Here, Adam is picking up the rules to Rio Grande’s Navegador, an exploration and economics game that won rave reviews from our group. (We all ended up purchasing it.)

Adam Baker, learning to play Navegador at GenCon

Because GenCon is so huge — my guess is there were roughly 30,000 people present over the course of the weekend, so probably 15,000 or more at a time on site — it plays host to a variety of game tournaments and championships. The North American championship for The Settlers of Catan is played at GenCon, for instance. Here are folks playing Settlers at a custom-designed table:

Hundreds (thousands?) of games of Settlers were played at GenCon

These custom-built Settlers tables sold at a reasonable price, actually. I think a fold-up version cost something like $150 and a full table maybe twice as much.

There were lots of expensive games and accessories that tempted me, including a $120 version of Automobile and a $150 version of Settlers. Though I bought a lot of stuff, I did my best to steer clear of the deluxe editions.

My favorite part of the entire show was the exhibit from Geek Chic. Geek Chic produces amazing high-quality furniture designed specifically for nerds. They make fancy filing cabinets for comic book collectors, display cases for folks who paint miniatures or collect action figures, and jaw-dropping tables for gamers. Their gaming tables (which range from the size of a coffee table to simply ginormous) are gorgeous. Best of all, they’re thoughtfully designed for gamers, with all sorts of great features and options, like dice towers, recessed play areas, and shelves for each player. This furniture is expensive, but probably worth it for someone who games a lot.

These gaming tables at GenCon were amazing.

I’m not willing to spend $16,000 on the massive Sultan, a ten-player table for miniatures and role-playing games. But I might consider budgeting $1300 for the Hoplite, a coffe-table sized game station. And there’s no question I covet the comic book filing cabinets!

Most of the stuff in the exhibit hall was much less expensive. In fact, most of the things for sale were games.

You could buy nearly any game you wanted at GenCon

On the final day of GenCon, Adam and I both took some time to browse for our favorite games. We’re both big fans of the games from Rio Grande: Dominion, Power Grid, San Juan, Puerto Rico, and — my favorite game of all time — Carcassonne. Both of us bought a copy of a new Rio Grande game called Navegador. I look forward to teaching it to my friends.

Other points of note:

The game auction lasted all weekend (about 30 hours of non-stop live auctions!). We sat in for a couple of hours Sunday morning as the board games were auctioned. It was far more entertaining than it ought to have been. I was sorely tempted to bid on a copy of the Bionic Woman game I remember owning when I was a boy. But I resisted the urge.

The GenCon board game auction. Adam bought the copy of Tigris & Euphrates you see here.

There were also plenty of people in elaborate costumes. These ranged from generic fantasy adventurers (elves! barbarians! wizards! zombies!) to characters from popular comic books (especially anime) and films. (Tons of of Star Wars characters, for instance.) There were actually many, many shops in the exhibition hall that catered directly to the costumed crowd. I generally disdain costumes, but I’ll admit that by the end of this convention, even I could envision myself dressing up for something like this.

Lots of nerds came in costume. By the end of the con, even I was tempted by the costumes.

Companies preview their new games at GenCon. One game that caught my eye was X-Wing from Fantasy Flight Games. This game, which was just announced (and won’t be available until early 2012), is a tactical space combat simulation using miniatures. I’m hoping the gameplay lives up to the aesthetics of the thing.

Companies previewed new games at GenCon, such as the X-Wing miniatures game.

I also stopped by to see my friend Nicole (on whose couch I slept two weeks ago) at her booth at the back of the exhibit hall. Nicole owns Green Ronin, a game publisher in Seattle. She was patient enough to answer some of my questions about her competitors’ game systems, and she even pointed me toward one that was best suited for gaming needs. (Okay, I’ll confess: I want to lead my friends on a role-playing game in which they play anthropomorphic mice. Think Watership Down but with mice instead of rabbits.)

I had a great time at GenCon, and I’d be happy to return in the future.

Footnote: I was supposed to fly to London immediately after the conference to begin a month-long stay in England (and possibly France and/or The Netherlands). But because of my mother’s health problems, I decided to cancel the trip. This makes me sad, but it means I can focus on preparing for my October trip to Latin America instead.

A Chance Encounter

I was standing on the tarmac last night, waiting for my backpack to be brought from the small commuter plane I’d just taken from Seattle, when my good friend Chris Guillebeau appeared at my side. “Hey man, how’s it going?” he said, shaking my hand.

“Holy cats!” I said. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Angola.”

“And Dubai and Madagascar,” Chris said. “But I just got back. I’ve been traveling for 47 hours. What about you? Where have you been?”

“I was in Colorado for the Savvy Blogging Summit and then in Seattle to speak about personal finance to videogame developers,” I explained. “I wish I’d known you were on this flight.”

“I know,” he said. “We could have sat together.”

In line to audition for The Amazing Race

Chris Guillebeau, in line for our attempt to audition for The Amazing Race last February.

We grabbed our bags and started the long walk to the exit. Chris told me about his most recent adventures. He’s been traveling the world for several years now, pursuing a quest to visit every country by the time he turns 35. He only has a couple of years left now, and the remaining countries are becoming more challenging to get to. I’d already read about his adventures in Angola and how cold it was in South Africa, but I hadn’t heard about the latter parts of the trip.

“I ran out of cash in the Comoros,” Chris said. “That hasn’t ever happened before. Maybe I’ve grown too cocky. I didn’t have enough cash to enter the country, so they confiscated my passport. I had to pick it up when I left.” But even that wasn’t so simple. (I’m sure he’ll tell the whole story over at The Art of Non-Conformity before long.)

When we reached the waiting area outside security, Jolie was waiting for Chris. She burst into a smile when she saw him and ran to give him a hug. Then she saw me and stopped, puzzled. “What’s J.D. doing with you?” she asked.

“He’s been with me since Madagascar,” Chris joked.

I offered to give the Guillebeaus a ride home, so we hopped on the shuttle to long-term parking, where our driver was a mildly retarded but very friendly man named Bob. He shook our hands as we entered, and then cracked silly jokes all the way to the lot. (“What do you get when you cross a turtle with a porcupine?” “A slow poke!”)

As we drove into Portland, we talked about plans for next year’s World Domination Summit. How big should it be? Where should we hold it? What date? Who should speak? Chris also told me about his upcoming seven-continent book tour. “My goal is to have the best-selling book on Antarctica,” he told me.

“I’d love to go with you,” I said. “Maybe mine could be the second best-selling book on Antarctica.” We laughed at that and hatched some plans.

I left my friends at their doorstep and drove home happy. Real Life has some challenges in store for me this week. The next few days will be tough. But I awoke this morning with a smile on my face because last night I got to spend an unexpected hour with friends. What a fine way to end five days of travel.