The 한국 adventure begins...

It's been a long time since my last post, but then again I was home in Pcola and working at NAS so there was not much of particular interest to write about except that I did remodel another room replacing carpet with tile, lost a few pounds, turned 50, blah, blah, blah. So now I am in to the Korea experience by about 10 days and not to sound redundant, but I love it. It is always a huge culture shock to go somewhere that expects manners, where stealing is just rude and everyone is so darn helpful and outgoing. As with every place I have been I have been treated great. The first weekend I went to Soyosan (Soyo Mountain) and hiked up with Jessica, the consultant I replaced. It started off easy enough but then came the steps climbing and more climbing, then the steps were replaced by rocks to climb over with intermittent steps, a little more grueling than my Nikes were ready to handle. The view from the top though, made the climb worthwhile, even if I set my water down and somebody grabbed it to pour on their head to cool off. Later somebody else made up for it by giving me and Jessica a Snickers bar. Supposedly there is a monastery farther up and down and back up where the successful climbers may be treated to a nice veggie lunch. So that is on my itinerary for another day. I have been to Seoul twice, staying this weekend overnight with my friend Loren from Pensacola. He speaks Korean and introduced me to some of his friends. Starting with the Photography Club we went to the Namsangol Hanok Village, a traditional Korean heritage center where Loren and I dressed up like Emperors and took pictures around the park…two separate activites. After a coffee break we went to his apartment and got ready for a night out. Sparing the details I can sum it up with soju, food, excellent company, more food and beverage and then an early morning Karaoke party. Staying out til the sun came up was not part of the plan, then again we really didn’t have a plan. Of course with Korean friends now I kind of have to start learning Korean – yet another language for me to slaughter to the amusement of the locals. Next weekend is the Korean holiday of Chuseok, which everybody have pretty much summed up as a Korean Thanksgiving. Actually it is their own holiday and has to do with everyone going home and playing traditional games and eating traditional food while honoring their ancestors. I guess the thing that makes it like Thanksgiving is that there’s a lot of food and everybody is on the road for the long weekend. We Americans get to have a long weekend too which is pretty awesome. I will most likely be in Seoul again.

The pictures are Soyosan, a restaurant serving food in the cold creek, squid (your choice) for dinner, taekwondo exhibition, Namsangol Hanok, and me and Loren throwing hands.

地震！

I am kind of at a loss for appropriate words for my final Japan blog entry. It was an awesome experience for 8 weeks. I got to indulge the full scope of what Japan has to offer. Of course I couldn’t hit all the must see zones, but I think I did pretty well. As I looked through my tourist book, I guess the biggest thing that is not in the guide books is the 5^th biggest earthquake in history! I thought it was well advised there that they encourage people to put together an “Oh Shit Kit” in case of a disaster. I put one together and fortunately was not in a position to need it when the big one rolled in. I spent my last couple of weeks in and around Tokyo and a day at Enoshima, down on the coast. I spent a day with my mom who came to visit with friends, the Anzai family, from 45 years ago. We got to hang out with the family, including all of their “kids” who are around my age. I thought it might be hard to connect or find things to talk about, but it came as naturally as it did all those years ago. It was very generous of them to take time off from work responsibilities in the middle of the greatest crisis Japan has had in a long time, to visit me. I won’t go on about that. I have posted here a few hilarious signs that I had to photograph ( I never thought of McDonald’s as a dining bar). What a country to put a liquor shop in a vending machine. As you can tell, I love Udon, especially when they throw in tempura veggies and serve a bottle of sake. This is also a picture of the Anzai Family, plus me and mom (we are the white ones). Also a picture of Mt. Fugi from Tokyo with the sun setting behind it – the picture is nowhere near as breath-taking as actually being there. So I finished Japan and I will miss it, in many ways. Now home for while with probably nothing interesting to blog about. At least I hope so. Between the blizzards, volcanoes, traffic accidents, tea with HRM the Queen, earthquake and tsunami, I need a break.

Kyoto, not Tokyo

Time definitely flies when you’re having fun. I have been here for a little over 6 weeks and only have 2 more to go. It is nice to have that extra couple of weeks to get in a little more sightseeing and cultural exposure. Last weekend I went to Kyoto from Saturday through Monday to hang out with my tomodachi Shelley from Hawaii. I started off with the 15 minute predawn power-walk to the train station and station hopping to Yokohama where I caught the bullet train (shinkansen) to Kyoto. It is amazing how smooth a 200 mph train ride can be. The city is chock full of castles, shrines and temples. You can literally run into them at almost every corner. Winding our way through a massive cemetery we came across a small but ornate wooden shrine with no people around. It was awesome. So was wandering through the Gion area and seeing the occasional maiko (geisha). I almost tripped over one of them too. We had an excellent weekend of hiking, eating, exploring. It helps a lot to be in a place where the bus and train timetable actually means something. If the train is arriving at 0646 and leaving at 0648 you can pretty much set your watch by it. The only real complaint I have about Japan is the stress of driving. It seems to be the one part of Japanese life that is random, haphazard and dangerous. As a driver you are pretty much at fault in every situation. If a shopper darts out into the street and gets hit, it’s the driver’s fault. If a moped gets knocked over while passing you on the left in the two-foot wide space between car and curb as you execute a left turn, it’s the driver’s fault. If some kid in a miniskirt and stiletto heels rides her bike through an intersection in the rain with headphones on, an umbrella in one hand, one hand on the wheel and her cell phone pinched between her shoulder and cheek and runs into you, it’s the driver’s fault. Drivers have to stop at the stop line a good 10-15 feet before an intersection, even though the corner is a blind corner due to the building that stretches up from 2 feet off the street and has a tree planted in the remaining 2 feet. You have to stop at the line and hope that nobody pulls up to the other blind corner at the same time, otherwise you have to wait for the police and then as the foreigner, it’s your fault. If anyone is hurt, the driver is expected to pay a condolence visit with cash money (yen) in enough hand to apologize adequately and act so humble as to convince the victim not to sue you (aka: a bribe). Yeah driving is kind of tense. Thank goodness for sa-ke and massages.

Of Samurai, Soba and T-Shirts

Okay, I don’t normally do two blog posts in one day, but I am compelled to on this day. I saw Mt. Fuji today for the first time since I have been here. The tallest mountain in Japan, it is breath-taking even from a great distance. Fuji-san in Japanese, the san is not honorific, but I think it should be. Today was clear as any day I can remember, especially considering yesterday was practically a whiteout. I went to Odawara Castle today. I thought, “castles in Japan?” Sure, and with the long history of ninjas and shoguns and samurai, why not? It strikes an interesting nerve in my American heart when I see Ninja throwing stars in a museum instead of at Spencer’s in the mall and samurai swords preserved on the grounds of a castle instead of as somebody’s living room décor. I am used to seeing it as dramatic theatrical hype, not as a long and illustrious history. Wow. Japan. Here I am. Nihon. 日本. The highest number of vending machines per capita in the world. The hot coffee is almost as good as Starbucks and ¼ the price. Seriously, I walked out of the onsen last night and smack into a machine offering me beer, water or sports drinks. I selected a sports drink after having spent 2 hours getting steamed, and walked out onto the street to see two machines begging me to having a cigarette for ½ the price of the U.S. Today, it was a tough choice between espresso or tomato basil soup, but in the end I chose the espresso (even though I heard the soup is a-ma-zing). This has nothing to do with vending machines, but I ordered Sukiyaki at a restaurant and got a gas grill with a bowl on top. Then they lit the grill and brought me all the stuff to cook on it, plus rice, plus soup, plus salad. It was crowded on that little table and the sake made everything kinda get in the way AND I had to cook it myself. What a concept! That’s twice I have paid well for a meal and had to cook it myself. Whatever. I am not complaining, but I am once again struck by cultural differences and things we all take for granted. I see little, little kids handling chopsticks like I never will. They use chop sticks at KFC for Pete’s sake! I haven’t even looked into the McDonald’s but I imagine McUdon and McKatsu (I have seen McShwarma and McTurca, so there must be). It took me 2 hours to eat a bowl of soba kare nandan today with chopsticks, and those were soba. Imagine my experience eating rice noodles in sukiyaki with chopsticks. Maybe I am talking about very foreign things, but I find myself asking, “What the…” a lot. I am not dismayed or disgruntled at all. I am awed! And I love it that I am in a place where everytime I do something wrong like dropping my washcloth into the onsen bath, bending over to pick it up, walking through the wrong stile at the train station, or not slurping my udon with enough enthusiasm, there are people standing by, smiling and bowing, trying to help me feel at home. And T-shirts! Damn! All that and a dancing monkey. Sorry, I just had a little rant in me.

赤ちゃんは、それが外に寒い

I guess I have gotten off kind of lucky as far as weather. We have had some cold days, but not as cold as my friends in the States. Days mostly in the 40s and nights dipping into the 20s. This past weekend we got some snow here in Zama, about 2” although it snowed heavily for about 12 straight hours. I went to Hakone, near Mt. Fuji and in the higher elevations like Gora and Owakudani there was 8” and it fell all day long. So much for the weather report. I feel like I am not taking as many pictures these days, but maybe I am starting to realize that a gigabyte of photos don’t really tell the story. Maybe if I was “press” or a professional photographer staging photo shoots, they would be more interesting. I enjoy looking back at pix but I know everybody else doesn’t enjoy looking at 700 pictures of a place they haven’t been. I went shopping last weekend at the 100 Yen store (Everything’s A Dollar) and that was fun. Then there are the Department Stores. Every department is a separate store, like a vertical mall. Restaurants are stacked on top of one another, several stories high, but I ended up eating at a Sushi-Go-Round. The picture explains it all. What it doesn’t show is the baby octopus, the various roe and the stuff that is indiscernible and most unattractive to my Floridian eyes. I will leave it at that, but it was cold outside the tea was hot and the salmon, tuna and other odds and ends were delicious. This weekend I went to Hakone, famous for the volcanic hot springs. I rode the cable car to Gora Park and the ropeway to Owakudani (Hell Valley – a hot and steamy volcanic crater). I ate black eggs cooked in the thermal springs that are supposed to add 7 years to your life. I ate five. Then after taking the bus back to Hakone I went to my first onsen, a Japanese experience which I intend to repeat, and sat in the hot springs with occasional strolls in the cold night air in between soaks. Nice and minerally. I had to locate it using Kanji script (Japanese writing) and that was kind of fun too. Here are a some pics. I did take a few at the onsen, but as you might guess the steam made the pictures very steamy. Interestingly a lot of people wear surgical masks here. I thought it was to keep from catching the flu, but learned that it’s also to keep from spreading germs which would be rude behavior. I kind of enjoy the polite culture here, and will miss it when I go home.

...thinking about Japan

Sometimes life throws some pretty interesting curves at you. In the last few years I learned the value of real friendship. I learned valuable lessons about people and character. I saw my son become a Marine, deploy to Afghanistan, and return. I have seen my family and two friends make great sacrifice for their country for a return that may not make up for the losses. I have been to Georgia, Oklahoma, Washington DC, North Carolina and Hawaii. I have been to Jordan, Israel, Germany, England, Turkey and now Japan. I have been stranded by blizzards and volcanoes. I can say “Hello” and “Where is the bathroom?” in 6 languages. I am not sure why I write this except that it dawns on me from time to time how small we are and how little we know. I can recall some of those breath-taking moments over the last few years and although people ask me where is your favorite place of all you have visited; I have to say I don’t know. How do you compare the Kamakura Daibutsu (pictured here) with Julius Caesar at Stratford-Upon-Avon? Or Petra with Masada? Or Canterbury Cathedral with St Peter’s Church in Antioch? I don’t think you can. So here I find myself reflecting on my day at Kamakura with a glass of Suntory in hand (yes it’s real- not just made for the movies). I had lunch at a tiny self-hibachi style restaurant. They brought the veggies and noodles and I cooked ‘em on the table where I was sitting. That and a bottle of Kamakura Beer…mm-mmm! I went wandering through the former capital of Japan finding the oldest (800 year old) Zen Temple in Japan and assorted Shinto Shrines. I even said to Doreen, my traveling partner for the day, “We are in JAPAN!” She didn’t seem to appreciate the hard slap on the back when I said it but I think she echoed the sentiment. Even the words Toilet or Smoking Area seem pretty cool when I see them written in Japanese. Anyway here are a few pix for your entertainment. From the top: a couple posing for formal pictures at Meijijingu Shrine; Kencho-ji the oldest Zen Temple; Hachi-mangu Shinto shrine in Kamakura; Kamakura Giant Buddha (second largest in Japan and hollow inside. I went in); these ladies were stopping in front of and praying for every business in Kamakura. The video should speak for itself.

私は日本にいる

That means “I am in Japan.” A week now and I have almost mastered my key words and phrases including Nihongo Wa Dekimasen (I don’t speak Japanese) and Gomenasai (I’m sorry). All is well. Yesterday I took the train into Tokyo, wandered around the Shinjuku area and then met friends for dinner and adult liquid refreshment. Food has been really good, even though I generally point and hope for the best. Karaoke is big here with places designed for groups of friends to get together in a private Karaoke Party Room. One such establishment had a wonderful sign on the door: COME AND SING. SINGING IS PLEASANT. EVERYBODY IS HAPPY. I went to a bar last night called Bar Plastic Model that had Anime MTV projected on the wall. Yes Anime! There was room in the bar for about 8 small people and we were packed like sardines...all 5 of us. I dont want to talk about Bar Albatross. And I checked out a “traditional English pub” where I ordered a pint of ale and then watched with glee as local patrons ate fish and chips with chopsticks. Everything in Tokyo is in order. There are no public garbage cans on the streets yet the streets have no trash. Everybody waits patiently in line even at crosswalks when no cars are coming. That’s like a million people all waiting on every corner for the little man to turn green. Smoking is allowed in restaurants, but prohibited on the street. I can’t imagine Americans even trying to pull off Tokyo haute couture, ie: Little Bo Peep and Dragon Ball Z. It’s not my first time in the big city but I found myself staring. AND it’s a good thing I practice with chopsticks…otherwise I would be starving because there is eating protocol and etiquette that makes it practically impossible to cheat, and requesting a fork might be an impossibility. I did manage to navigate the trains and get home safely at 1 a.m. though and I am satisfied that my time here will be rewarding. Here are a few pix of Tokyo from yesterday. The park is the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, the city view is from the top of Tokyo Metro Govt Office and the street scene is Kabuki-Cho. Next week I may go into town and spend the night Saturday before meeting up with some folks I haven’t seen since 1970.

End of 2010 thoughts

The Best of 2010 includes: Blake coming home from Afghanistan, The Great Stranding in London due to the volcano, Being in DC for Snowmageddon, Swimming in Hawaii with Honu, Seeing “Phantom” at Her Majesty's Theatre, The car accident in Turkey, Easter at Ely Cathedral, The homeless boy in Konya, Seeing both my brothers at the same time, Remodeling my bathrooms. The list could go on, but I'll control myself. WOW what a year it's been! The worst list is pretty small actually, spraining my wrist from falling off a volcano, a stab wound from a Yucca plant and resulting infection, and that’s about it. If anyone remembers more bad stuff just keep it to yourself. I have met some great people in 2010, worked with some great MFLC’s, and made new friends. I hope as 2011 rolls in I can continue to enjoy this lifestyle, but I also hope to rekindle some friendships that have kind of drifted and spend more time with those who mean the most to me. Here are a few of my last pics from Turkey: Cleopatra's Gate, St Paul's well, some of the boys at Easy's place(Aiden, Gengis, Aihan, and Mehmet), and one of me and Blake just taken this week, I think I could do better than this Jack Nicholson smile, but what are ya gonna do. My next post will be from 日本 !

My Auto Accident Story...Sorry, No Pix

For anyone who has never driven in another country, I just have to say, you don’t know what you’re missing. The Autobahn was fun if a little intimidating in Germany. Driving on the left is fun but a little tense at times in England. But nothing is like driving in Adana, Turkey. I almost qualified it, but I can just leave it at that.
So there I was driving along being cool keeping an eye on everyone else as we tooled down a two lane road with pedestrians walking down where a center line is supposed to be, cars 4 abreast, and all in a huge hurry (except the pedestrians who amble and sometimes stop to kiss their friends, chat and drink some tea.) Suddenly through the smoky haze and the dimming light as the afternoon began to turn to dusk, I saw a wooden barrier across the road with an arrow pointing left and one pointing right. The road was blocked for construction, so having turned left on a previous trip, I knew to turn right. I jumped in behind a dolmus (minibus-taxi) and the four lanes converged into one narrow lane complete with pedestrians who think they are bigger and stronger than cars, and headed for the detour around the construction. About 100 meters into the detour, all traffic came to a halt. Cars were parked in the middle of the road about four cars deep and there was no way anybody was going anywhere. I gasped for air as I felt the press of cars coming in behind me. I was fairly sure I would be there for days, but my traveling companion, Kimberly, brave little toaster, suggested that I just back up into the onslaught. I figured if we were going to survive I had no option, so I put the car in reverse and wound my way back to a wide spot, did a twelve point turnaround and busted out of there barely able to breathe from the claustrophobia. Now Kimberly and I weren’t afraid, but we were ready to go home and not keen on spending the night in an impromptu parking lot while others around us abandoned their cars and commenced to partying.
So I found an alternate path and tried to pay attention to Carol, my Garmin, but she didn’t seem to have any better idea than I did about how to get out of downtown old Adana and kept saying “turn left, you idiot!...TURN LEFT…re-calcu-recalculating” so I tuned her out. Kimberly was much more encouraging saying things like “I think we are headed in the right direction” or “I feel good about this.” As we wound around buses and fruit carts and bicyclists and motor-scooters with husband, wife, two kids, three sacks of groceries and a 5 liter water-bottle on board, I began to see the congested traffic thin out a little to like three across in a one way road and the dust start to settle. By the way, a one way road in Turkey means basically that traffic can only go one way at a time. The cars at one end wait until they get enough strength and numbers and then charge into the road forcing the cars that were coming to the other way to stop and make room. And so it goes until the traffic is ready to go the other direction. I knew we were almost home, just ten more minutes and I had needed to use the WC for almost an hour. As we rounded a corner I saw the mosque and told Kimberly we were almost there, and suddenly, WHAM! A dolmus hit the rear passenger side fender causing a significant dent and scrape along the rear side of the car. I immediately came to a stop in the crowded street and got out to check the damage and perhaps talk with the driver of the dolmus who sped away, shouting “TAMAM” which means “IT’S OKAY!” I shouted “YOK, it’s not tamam!” while pointing to the damaged fender and gesturing wildly. Perhaps he sped away because he thought I might be crazy. At any rate, I was left there with a small crowd of Turks shaking their heads and looking at me like, “Man this sucks for you, because we don’t speak English and you don’t speak Turkish!” I called Ismail, the Hertz guy next, who is awesome and one of the most generous people I have met. He had said with his beautiful accent and no understanding of idiom or context, “As I have told you many times, Mr. Phillips, if you have an accident, to call me first, not the police or anyone else. Don’t you understand?” This was not said because I am so dense that he had to repeat himself to get it through my thick skull. He said it maybe twice to make sure I got the point. If an American said that to me I would assume he was trying to make me feel stupid. This was definitely not the case, but while I was standing on the street with the banged up butt of my car sticking out in traffic interrupting the “flow” for lack of a better word, being stared at like a circus freak waiting for the police, listening to Ismail telling me “I have been telling you, Mr. Phillips to not move the car and I will be there in a few minutes, maybe twenty”, I admit I felt kind of stupid.
The Police arrived within about 10 minutes and spoke even less English than I speak Turkish, so I handed them my papers, registration, Florida Driver’s License and quickly informed them “Turkce bilmiyorum” (I don’t speak Turkish). I must have mispronounced something because they then asked me if I speak Turkish and again I told them “Turkce bilmiyorum”. Then they said something else to me and I told them “Anlamyorum” (I don’t understand you). That must have worked because they started to laugh and patted me on the back saying “Tamam.” I had to call Ismail a couple of times to have him interpret while the police report was being completed and my breathalyzer was being administered but I remembered that as a guest in their country I had to be very civil. So I used almost every Turkce word I knew and told them all sorts of interesting things like My name is Garry, I like Turkey, Turkey is very nice, I am American (I thought I heard them say in plain English “No shit.”) At least I hope that’s what I told them. They were very good natured and tried a few English words, but our conversation usually sounded like, “My name is Garry, My name is Fahti, I like Turkey, Do you like Turkey, I am American, No shit, Where are you from, My name is Garry,” and so on. They taught me to say “Ben Tarsus idiorum” which I think means “I go to Tarsus today.” Again I hope that’s what it means because they had me say it a few times and laughed each time. I think I generated some good will because at the end of our interaction, after they told me that I had to come back downtown tomorrow to pick up my copy of the police report, we all slobbered, kissed, hugged and shook hands and went our merry ways.
So then I followed Ismail In the dark, on a hair raising trek back through all the traffic, unlit one way roads, the same pedestrians but all now dressed in black (undetectable but for the glow of their cigarettes), fruit carts, etc to the Hertz office where we decided not to change out the car for a less damaged one. I wanted by that time to say, “What the hell, Ismail? This one looked like a demolition derby car when we picked it up, do you really think another dent or scratch will show?!” But I restrained myself. He must have detected that I was going to say something smug, because, and I think it was deliberate, he gave us alternate directions to get back to the base to avoid the traffic, construction etc. I and Kimberly listened carefully, because we were ready to call it a night, and even asked him to repeat it and then we regurgitated it back for his approval, and he said we were exactly right. We did exactly as told and drove right down a dark pot-holed one way road with very few people on it and those who were out, stared at us through Hashish clouded eyes. That road dead ended and we had to turn right down an even darker road - Ismail had not mentioned a dead end or a right turn. I had to use the brights because it was so dark and like I said before, everybody was dressed in black. We drove very slowly down a road that suddenly turned across a bridge. We had turned on the GPS again and Carol was saying turn right, Kimberly was saying turn right and I was shouting, WHERE? Then suddenly there it was, a right turn over a rickety bridge that crossed a black abyss then down a one lane, two way road with the bottomless black chasm on one side and people and cars, and trucks on the other coming the other direction, some with only one headlight so I couldn’t see where the body of the vehicle was until it was right on me. Then the road ended and we had the same shouting match in the car, “Turn right!” “Where?!” another bridge, across a sudden major highway that I had been on two hours earlier in that same spot (actually it as the third time today that I passed that same spot), down an alley into a muddy field where cars were driving all directions and back onto a road that had huge potholes and asphalt jutting up out of the road here and there, and more people all dressed in black, and Carol saying “turn right, turn right, turn left, re-calc-re-calculating”. All of a sudden there it was like a sign from the heavens: the mosque was again before us but this time we were right on top of it in all it’s glowing nighttime splendor. I then saw the Hilton Hotel on the other side of the river and I exclaimed to Kimberly, “I know where we are” and again for effect, “I KNOW WHERE WE ARE!” Almost weeping I persevered down that four lane, divided highway, with it’s beautiful lines dividing the lanes, and only three cars across my side of the highway. All the way back to base for almost 10 km I thanked God for protecting us, keeping us safe and not letting me get thrown in Turkish Prison.
I have my Turkish phrasebook but I just hope that when I go downtown to the Traffic Control Office to get my Traffic Control report tomorrow, inshallah, somebody there can speak English.
Tamam, Now I feel better.

Türkçe bilmiyorum

(T-yerk-cheh beel-mee-yor-uhm) That means "I don’t speak Turkish". A great phrase to know. Most folks know little or no English in the middle and eastern Türkiye. I guess that's part of wandering around in a strange land. You gotta know a couple of words like how to say Thanks, Please, Hello. Once Turks realize that verbal communication ain’t gonna happen, they laugh and offer me some tea (Chai). When I walk away I am Ahbi, or brother. I was in Konya yesterday for the Mevlana festival, walking down an alley alone and came across a little boy, maybe 8 or 9 years old, begging for money as the snow fell around us. I told him in Turkish that I don’t speak Turkish and didn’t understand him and he asked for one Lira. I gave him 1.50, all the change I had. With very happy and very lost eyes, he smiled and took my hand and placed it to his grubby cheek. I walked away haunted by this child. I saw him a short while later and he looked at me, smiled and slightly bowed his head with eyes closed. Nobody who was with me that day saw him and I didn’t take a picture of him. Either I put a little light into the darkness of just a lonely, invisible soul in the world who begged for his family or human traffickers, who I connected with for a moment in time or he was an angel who for that brief moment reminded me of how good I have it and how especially in the Christmas season, that charity is the best gift of all. First Corinthians 13:13. Not a quote; just a reference.
Incidentally Dervishes take a vow of poverty and begging for them is a means of keeping oneself humble, but begging for oneself is not allowed...only begging for charity. Like Orthodox Jews, giving to the poor and needy is just what you do without question.
These pics are me n the snow in Konya, me with Izet and Aihan (local boys) in Karataş (beach town), the inside of the Church of St. Peter in Antioch, or Antakya (which Peter started and Paul also preached), and a 2000 year old local Mosaic at the Mosaic Museum of Antioch. You can guess what the video is, but watch it on small screen; it looks better than if you enlarge it.