T A B L E_T A L K Football without helmets. Join a rousing discussion of rugby, soccer, cricket and international sports in Table Talk   Find deep discounts and great selection on the books you need to read at barnesandnoble.com Search by:  Keyword Title Author       R E C E N T L Y The wizard of Oise By David Downie Vincent van Gogh still draws painters and pilgrims to the Parisian suburb of Auvers-sur-Oise (03/07/99) Siberian wasteland By Jeffrey Tayler An overland journey exposes a traveler to the hazards of radiation, desolation and snowstorms (03/05/99) The mystic-barber of Selçuk By Gary Mex Glazner How a tonsorial teen in Turkey helped me understand the revelations of Rumi (03/04/99) Special delivery By Lindsy Van Gelder Hand delivering a postcard from the Galapagos to Italy starts a string of delightful surprises. (03/03/99) Strangers in paradise By Douglas A. Konecky Batam, Indonesia, was a lot less than the brochure promised -- until two traveling musicians found the Nagoya ice cream shop (03/02/99) Browse the Wanderlust Postmark archives Wanderlust's Official Travel Book Partner		-----C l a s h  o f  t h e  c a m e l s ! On Turkey's Aegean coast, the venerable sport of camel-wrestling relieves winter's monotony. BY LAURIE UDESKY | NAZILI, Turkey -- Bells clank in the distance, and a rhythmic chiming gets closer as men with berets, stout guts and weathered skin like leather lead their camels into the ring. The sound of Zeybek music -- a squeak reminiscent of a kazoo, made by a wooden flute-type instrument and a drum -- is carried on the growing wind. Locals say it's the music that makes the camels dance. The clouds are turning dark, threatening rain. Yet thousands of people, some in makeshift bleachers, others sitting in beds of trucks surrounding the ring, have flocked from villages on the outskirts of Nazili, about 170 miles southwest of the Turkish port city of Izmir, and other parts of Turkey's western Aegean to see this winter spectacle. Under a rainbow of umbrellas, they munch treats from their picnic stashes and sip raki, the Turkish national alcohol, a licorice-flavored aperitif that turns billowy white when mixed with water and incites its imbibers to kick up their heels in sweeping folk dances. In contrast to their owners, the camels are dressed in their finest: elaborately woven, beautifully colored tapestries; bright reds, blues, greens, pinks and oranges that cover their two humps, shifting slightly as the camels' front legs move elegantly forward, as if they are dancing through water. Their bums carry a banner announcing their name and "Masallah" -- the Turkish idiom that means, "May Allah protect you from the evil eye." "Their get-ups cost about $3,000," notes Ali Onal, who had introduced his camel, also named Onal, to me the day before. As Ali talks, Onal the camel gives him a sloppy, frothy kiss. Thousands of dollars may seem a high price to pay for one suit of camel clothes, but it's on a par with the worth of the beasts. The camels, which are bred in Iran, cost about $25,000 apiece. The announcer barks two contestants' names over the scratchy sound system: "Gozluklu (Spectacles) from Soke will wrestle Faruk from Antalya." Through the air rings a high-pitched "Kuhhh, kuhhh, kuhhh" -- like a nail across a blackboard. This is the sound of camels grinding their teeth, which are covered before they challenge their opponents, so that no blood will spill. N E X T+P A G E | India has its sacred cow; Turkey has the camel