I was unsure of the format that my website would take in regard to how I could or would express and write the things I have seen and heard. So far I have decided to take exerpts from my journal as i think these impressions are the most honest and accurate.
Istanbul
August 8th, Sultanahmet
I sit on a bench, one of maybe
40 that face the Blue Mosque, a low
palm lets its soft green vertebrae wave and bob in the warm, gentle
breeze. Floating towards my ear a phrase of Arabic singing comes from
a car radio playing against a live classic performance of Turkish
music. A horizontal harp (org) with notes as pleasing as the breeze,
its trills confused with a handful of barks from a passing dog. The
sky in front, behind, around me is tinged a blue-grey but the closer
to the earth it is the pinker it gets. Allah hu-akbar -- the early
evening call to prayer, the wind picks it up and carries it away from
the Blue Mosque. Echoes or others, more distant mosques carrying the
same phrase, the same reminder. The org payer has momentarily stopped
playing. Seagulls rise and fall, forming large arches above the gold
tips of the Blue Mosque.
This morning it was hard to leave home, the familiar but I knew I was
ready. The atmosphere rocks me to its own motherly pulse.
August 10th, Taksim Square, Otantik cafe and bar
Swaying to the music of the saz and a beautiful curling enchanting
male voice singing traditional Turkish music. The room pours a
gold-tinted light over its audience, victorian lights with Turkish
tapestries and European landscape paintings. Strange combination, but
it seems to work. Napkins are placed one after another on the saz
player's stand- requests from the exuberant, attentive audience.
A beautiful Turkish couple gets up to dance with two white tissues
held in their right hands, they are quickly joined by five then ten of
their friends. Skipping in perfect beat they stand in a tight pack,
men next to men, women next to men, people pulled from different
tables to dance by the energy of the group.
August 11th, tea garden
Evening- men pull quietly at
their narguile with only the
accompaniment of a rippling, bubbling sound of moving water. 
The
mixture of people, noises, cultures, open to all in the narguile bar.
Thinking about my day, the beauty of the Aya Sofia the utter peace and
unity of the Christian and Muslim symbols, their coexistence in the
domed uplifting, mysterious and gold-laden Aya.
This is what we need to look at today. No Bush 'crusades' against 'terrorism' his words do
not mask meaning subtly. Istanbul, its art, the mixture of people, its
weather emit a perfect balance.
Central Turkey
August 18th, village of Goörome in
Cappadocia
After spending an incredible week in Istanbul
tasting delectable
treats, visiting the most wonderful mosaics and mosques and going to
live performances of traditional music in Taksim square at night I
decided to jump on a night bus and head down to the region of
Cappadocia in central Turkey. 
In the small village of Gorome I learned how to make a clay pot in
Avanos, which was the heart of the Hittite pottery tradition, in the
Guray family factory where each piece from the molding, to the
decoration, to the glazing is done by hand by artisans related to the
family. I also spend my days speaking with a local carpet seller whose
family owned shop is over 150 years old, and in fact was a caravanseri
(a resting place for the nomads).
We talk for hours about Sufism, but
mostly about the symbolism within the kilims that young women weave in
his shop. 
Here too I have a hand at traditional craft and sit beside
the two other weavers and thread red and blue wool through the
vertical loom. They are suprised I have never woven a kilim before in
my life.
August 19th, Haci Bektas: week-long Annual Alevi traditional music
festival!
>
The birth place of Bektas Veli, the founder of a dervish order in the 12th century, is a famous pilgrimage site for the Alevi Bektasi's. The small village hosts an annual festival in honor of Haci Bektas with the most famous players of saz in all of Turkey. I arrived there alone in the height of the afternoon after a dusty 2 hour bus ride from Gorome to Nevshehir and from Nevshehir to Haci Bektas. The town was more 'developed' than I had expected, the main street which staddled the main square was packed with small stalls selling posters, pendants, statues and paintings of Hagi Bektas and Ali, pilgrims and locals inspecting the items attentively. I decided to visit the museum of Hagi Bektas, a complex where he taught, lived and worshipped with his followers and where today his tomb lies. At its entrance is the fountain of the 3 saints which has a carving of the seal of Suleyman, or what is commonly known today as the Star of David. 
The Star of David was commonly used in Seljuk and Ottoman design; the upside-down star symbolizes water and justice where as the other represents fire and injustice.It is written by the fountain that there is alife struggle between good and evil, and that the rose carved in the center of the star is the synthesis of good and love. Furthermore each corner represents a prophet- Moses, Abraham, Kharoun, Jacob, David and Isaac.
The museum was overflowing with believers and pilgrims for this annual celebration. In one of the small side mosques hordes of people kissed the doorway of Haci Bektas' tomb and then gently touched their forhead to it.
I then headed to cinehane, a small hill Haci Bektas frequented, where one can see the markings of his life on the surrounding rocks- a smooth golden one where he sharpened his sword, a rock flattened to the shape of his foot, a boulder complete with finger-markings on either side which were said to have been created when he stopped it from falling on his disciples by supporting it with his hands and back.
Along the dusty brown-baked path there were wishing trees where his followers tie ribbons on the tree's branches, a custom carried over from the Buddhist tradition. At the base of Haci Bektas' statue small holes are carved out and small pebbles are placed inside.
The most impressive site in Cinehane was the cave where Bektas meditated.
It was a very large boulder with two holes, an entrance and an exit, with a small tunnel connected the two. Lined up in front of the cave gypsies, locals, even 2 french tourists waited their turn to be able to crawl through so as to be able to purify themselves and feel the power and energy of Bektas.
The evening commences with sema dancing. Dancing in a cyclical formation with very gentle stroking gestures. It's hard to write while the children are dancing the sema because it is hypnotic: the balanced carving/arching movements together with children and one adult male singing in unison accompanied by the saz...Boys in green sashes and grey pants now join the young girls, turning and turning together in a circle with their hands to the sky while the boys compliment and accentuate the girls' movements by swaying their hands in front and behind themselves. 
It is a communal, and now public prayer activated through bodies and music. An interactive prayer which man and woman seem to enter together, heads bowed down to the earth or elevated to the sky. A dervish from the village of hagi bektas sits nexts to me and explains that when the sema group tap their chests they are bringing the world to their hearts, arching their arms out toward the audience they are sending love to the people.
20th of August, last evening in Haci Bektas Last night of the festival in Haci Bektas. One of the most magical evenings in a small Anatolian village. Tonight I arrived later than usual but when I arrived the moon was dripping orange and one of the most famous traditional musicians of saz -Neset Ertas- was performing. Neset sings about the sadness of love and life but also sings about its beauty. I am taken by the hand by both young women and an elderly woman and invited to dance a sema like dance.
Each night that I return to the music festival the moon appears full to the right of the stage. The night moves onand the more we dance and scream and shout to the musician the more the moon rises above us full, pregnant, lifting herself up with the music.
Pictures of people who attended the music festival in Haci Bektas:
Cappadocia's fantastical landscape 
The strangeness, beauty and excentricity of Cappadocia charmed me, so instead of staying the planned 3 days I stayed 10. After the week-long Haci Bektas festival I got a job in a local family-run restaurant where in exchange for food and lodging (don't worry Watson folks, I wasn't paid) I sang and played my guitar in the evenings.
Although I have had experience singing with a band on stage, I never had the experience of performing alone with my guitar. It definitely forced me to practice and to expand/improve my limited repertoire, it also makes me realize how much more work I have to do! 
In any case it turned out wonderfully since everyone was very appreciative and as one can see from the pictures on some nights the father (who owned the restaurant) and his son played traditional turkish music while the rest of us danced. My fondest memory was when the father accompanied me on one of my blues songs on his drum, the whole restaurant went crazy!
Day trip to the Mevlevi Museum and the site where Mevlevi now lies, Konya. (Mevlevi is commonly known as the founder of the whirling dervish order)
Antalya, hiking in the ruins of Teremessos
These are photos from the hike in Antalya in Teremessos I took with Mr.Blake Borne of PA (great travel buddy!) It was wonderful to get into the mountains, to be active and to smell the sweet air. That same evening we went to 2 different traditional music performances...so still managed to fit in some music along the way.
Performing in Olimpos
I had slept in a cave-house for 9 nights and now it was time for me to live in a tree, so I headed to Olimpos.
I was expecting a calm, remote and picturesque place but instead, suprise suprise, the place had been run over by the tourist bull-dozer. No matter, my guitar remained my closest ally and together we headed to the beach at night and I sang to the meditteranean sea, the mountains surrounding the beach lit up by the moon and the vibrating/shooting stars. I also played with three other turkish men who were playing the oud, drums and saz and they were a bit taken aback that a woman could play an instrument, nonetheless it was a really fun evening. Since Cappadocia I haven't stop playing my guitar so i would take it everywhere with me, while practising in the afternoon on a low-seated couch under a tree a blues guitarist (from Albania) heard me and invited me to perform that night at an open-air venue. It was amazing, there were about 60 people seated all around and they were such a beautiful receptive audience, I am still smiling as I type these words remembering that evening
The serene Butterfly Valley
29th The most serene place I've been to. The stars are so dense at night they fill the whole canopy and the valley arches above, behind and in front of me like a big mohawk. In front lies the blue blue water and pebbled beach, on either side tremendous cliffs -- knobbly and rough -- a great contraposition to the rippling water which is so calm that it almost seems like a lake. Crashing waves, casadias, cigarette smoke, vines scrambling above, a canape with the light reflecting off the sea through vines. An admixture in this hippyesque enclave - young Turks and a handful of tourists. All of us in old tents pitched on the beach where the waves, accompanied by the never ending songs of crickets rocks me to sleep.
31st The cloud-like gentleness of the nay in my left ear, the hum of the crickets, the hilarious running of a hen across hot pebbles, apples being peeled, the specked light of the sun through interwoven vines and purple lossoms overhead. Butterfly Valley sweeps me into its delicate, humming rhythm so that time disappears and the only temporal divisions are those between the magical qualities of night and day. The voluteers are equally enchanting and open, kindness gathered from the beauty and lull of their valley reflected in their walk and olive-toned skin. We all camp on the beach - my old tent is ripped in the front due to the sun - instead I chose to sleep under the stars. The night is full of shooting stars and paths of stardust that lies behind glowing yildiz. I've lost track of the days. But the morning welcomes me with such astounding beauty, my eyelids flicker and a smile lands on my lips. I sleep above on a cliff in what they call here 'the rock bar' so at night the waves crash below and sweep through the pebbles which lightly drum away; sieve-like. In the late afternoon-tinged early evening the sun gets heavy and starts dropping down toward the water; its purples and deep reds poured into the intermittant trembling water. The colors sometimes become striated on the sun's face.