Amusing Images from Turkey

How could I not share the following?  

Cat seen near Istiklal Street.  Clearly someone has a sense of humor - I presume not the cat.

It's a chicken - in Uggs. 

Food in Turkey

Anyone who knows me knows that my life revolves around food.  Learning about it, finding it, eating it.  As I've joked "If you're going to have a hobby, it might as well be something you do three times a day anyway.

Below are a bunch of food photos from my trip.

 (Food from Turkish Airlines flight.  Weirdly delicious after many months in the village.) 

(Istanbul:  Little cup of Turkish tea.)  

 

(Istanbul:  Morning pasty with cheese and with spinach.)

(Istanbul:  Liver in lavash with various saladas and vegetables.  Onion, tomato/cucumber, spicy pepper (?), greens, etc.  The white bowl to the left is ayran.)   

(Me with fresh ayran - in a bowl with a ladle.  Ayran is a yoghurt drink that basically tastes like liquid cottage cheese.  I had it first in Turkey in 2001.  I love it.  It's great - especially when the weather is hot.) 

 (Istanbul (near Spice Bazaar):  Dried fruit in the market.)  

(Istanbul (near Spice Bazaar):  Me inside tasty food store.  That had everything - including lots of salads. Mmmmm - salad...)

(Istanbul:  On Istiklal Street:  Very enjoyable salad with tuna.  But also possibly the reason I woke up at 4am and 5am to be ill.  It also might have been the ice cream I had after this.)  

(Goreme:  Grilled river trout lunch.)  

(Goreme:  Rice, eggplant, fresh bread, salad.)  

(Goreme:  Beef stew cooked in traditional pot.  The pot had a top half, but that was knocked off in order to open it up - to make the contents accessible.) 

Goreme:  

This is what happened when I order an iced coffee:  

1.  Order iced coffee.  

2.  Received hot coffee. 

3.  Told the man of the error - asked for ice.  And milk. 

4.  He brings milk.  And 2 ice cubes.  I tell him I need a tall glass with many ice cubes.  He brings it.  

5.  I assemble drink.  

(Plate of side dishes - largely salads.  Yoghurt and carrot, yoghurt and cucumber, spicy eggplant, cheese, friend eggplant, bean salad, pumpking salad, potato salad, etc.  And fresh bread!  (Bread in upper photo))

(Dessert:  "The Turkish variant of the pastry kanafeh is called künefe, and the bunch of wirey shreds that it is based on is called kadayıf. A semi-soft cheese such as mozzarella is used in the filling. In making the künefe, the kadayıf is not rolled around the cheese; instead, cheese is put in between two layers of wire kadayıf. This is cooked in small copper plates, and then served very hot, in syrup, with clotted cream (kaymak), and pistachios or walnuts. (Compare with kadaif.)"  (Wikipedia)
Beverage:  If I recall, the (hot white) beverage was sahlep.  "Sahlep is another favorite in winter (served hot with cinnamon). Sahlep is extracted from the roots of wild orchids and may be used in Turkish ice cream as well. This was a popular drink in western Europe before coffee was brought from Africa and came to be known." (Wikipedia))

(Istanbul:  Many pouring syrup over pastry.  I suppose to keep them moist.) 

Back in the Village

I returned to the village on Monday, and was pretty happy to be back.  I was looking forward to quiet, clean air (smoke and exhaust free most of the time), the ability to stretch out in a big bed and sleep in, and maybe even kick this cold.  Also, I now had my bike. 

Yes, a few days later I was bored. How many times can you really listen to a roost's call-and-reponse?  

I like being active so days with nothing going on make me restless.  Ergo my trip to Batumi yesterday.  After 2 days in Kobuleti (admittedly, reading on the beach), I was ready for some activity.  So, after spending the morning yesterday spraying WD40 on various squeaky hinges around the house (making it easier to walk around at night without disturbing anyone), I rode into Kobuleti and put my bike on the minibus, headed to Batumi, settled in at a café with wifi.  To-do list today include:  purchase replacement light bulb, purchase bungee cords, see if I can find a bike helmet. I was moderately successful.  

But the village is a weirdly fascinating place in its own way.  For example, yesterday I woke to the sound of the cow mooing.  Loudly.  At 5am.  I wondered if perhaps the calf was being born.  Turned out, yes, the calf was born.  Today I looked outside and it seems that cafe, at 27 hours old, has learned how to get up and walk around unassisted and eat grass.  Go figure...

And last night, I was offered chicken.  "It's our chicken.  Natural!"  

I had a bite and a light bulb went off.  "Um - a couple of days ago you were walking with a check from the chicken coop.  Is this the one?"  Apparently it is.  And I was wondering why the egg supply has been low recently.  

This morning, I asked if there was cheese.  "Soon.  Now that the calf has been born, there will be lots of cheese."  

Istanbul Pride: The People You Meet on the Street

Sometimes it's fascinating the people you meet on the street...  

The day of Istanbul Pride I wasn't feeling great, so was being slow and taking it easy.  And was trying to keep the sun off of me.  So, I had wrapped a shawl (aka sun shield) around me and was wearing a cap (with a large “H” on it that is associated with a university in Cambridge).  I was standing back and watching the crowd with their signs and flags before the march began.  A woman near me was doing the same thing.  And she seemed weirdly familiar.  I glanced over on a few occasions, trying to figure out what was so familiar, and found her doing the same to me.  And realized “Holy cow.  She’s wearing a (well loved, well worn) Red Sox cap.  She looks so Boston.” 

So I asked “Are you from Boston?  I see your hat.” 

She responded “I noticed your hat, too.  Yes, I am.” 

“Where?  I’m from Boston.” 

“Somerville.  Near Union Square.”
”Really!?!  Me, too.  Inman.” 

Then she explained that she’s really from Australia, but went to Boston for grad school and stayed.  So I asked what she studied.  Geology.  After which I ask “Was that at MIT?”  It was.  I said that I know someone else who did that program and while she doesn’t know my friend, the name sounded familiar. 

The march began and we parted ways. 

I walk down the street, following the marchers.  And I saw a man also watching from the side.  And realized that it was a professor who I once worked for.  So I stopped, took off my sunglasses, and we chatted about what brought us to Istanbul, then wished each other well and I continue down the street. 

I have to admit that I was hoping for a third run-in.  But I knew I might be jinxing it when I crossed to the other side of the marchers.  Regardless, it was sort of fascinating to see who you can run into when you’re in a crowd. 

Then again, a week later, I was climbing around on rock formations in Cappadocia, in the same cap, and someone called out “Go Crimson”.  We introduced ourselves, and that afternoon C (who studied Comparative Religion – appropriate for a tour of Cappadocia) and A and I spent the afternoon together, wandering through Goreme’s Rose Valley.  

Istanbul Pride: A March, Not a Parade

Istanbul Pride as alluded to on their website, it more about rights than it is about an excuse to have a party; unlike Boston and other North American Prides, Istanbul pride is a more of a political march, not a bunch of groups with cheery floats and costumes.  No one gave away candy, there were no feel-good church groups, and very few people cheered from the sidelines.  There were no families to speak of - except for the ones who accidentally found themselves at the march, and they seemed to try to get out of the fray fairly quickly.  Those who showed up for the event were *in* the march.  And few people were wearing, what I term, “pridewear” – no rainbows or Ptown hats or HRC logos or Smith or Hampshire shirts.  Just a bunch of people with signs, marching and chanting.  

They began at one end of Istiklal Street and marched to the other.  While the police were out in force (with shields and the other tools one needs to disperse a mob), people paid little attention; the police had been there several days before for a protest related to Syria and earlier that day for a march by a Turkish communist group.  

It was great to see and a good reminder that in many places Pride isn't just another city festival where politicians shake hands and companies set up booths to hawk their vacation homes and car rentals.  Instead it's an occasion where a community comes together to become visible and raise awareness about what they don't yet have. 

(Advertising for one of the affiliated events.) 

How to Get to Batumi Airport

I booked the tickets.  Three tickets – one for me, one for A and one for R.  One the Turkish Airlines site.  Batumi is also basically across the Black Sea from Istanbul.  We had tickets to Istanbul.  We wanted a quick and easy way to Istanbul.  While I *did* spell A’s last name wrong, resulting in a little chaos the night before the flight, I was pleased to get the tickets for a decent price.  I noticed that Batumi seemed to have two airport codes, and frugal one that I am, I chose the cheaper one.  After all, Batumi is too small to  have two airports. 

So, we met the morning of our departure – at 10:30.  We went to Café Literatura, a café introduced to me by a Georgian friend.  We had omelets and coffee.  And then we decided to head to the airport.  Actually, we departed a bit late because my watch was slow due to a dying battery.  Quick walk to a busy street, negotiated a price, hoped in a cab, and we were off to the very small Batumi airport.  Fifteen minute later, we walked into the airport and were pleased to see how orderly it was.  There was a Turkish Airlines kiosk.  I went to the window, gave my name, and smiled. 

The woman looked at my and said “Oh – that flight’s check in doesn’t begin for another 2 hours – at 2pm for a 4pm departure.” 

“Um…”  I replied.  “No, it’s a 2pm departure.” 

“Oh, no.  Check in at Hopa is at 2pm.  The flight itself departs at 4pm.” 

“Huh?” 

She us up in her computer and smiled.  “You purchased a ticket from Hopa, not from Batumi.  But it’s okay – you still have time.  You need to go to Hopa to check in.” 

“Really…?  But the flight leaves from here, right?  Can’t we leave from here?  ”  I was a little panicked.  The plan was to fly to Turkey, not take a bus. 

“No.  You need to go to Hopa for your boarding pass.  I cannot check you in here.”  She proceeded to explain how to get to Hopa – which is approximately 20 miles from the border town of Sarpi. 

Once I realize that we have time, that we will not miss our flight, I’m amused by the situation and trying not to laugh at the insanity of it. 

R and A. ask for an update. 

“Well, it seems I booked the cheaper flight – from Hopa.  Which means that we need to take a bus to Hopa, check in there and meet the others on our flight, get our boarding passes, and they’ll drive us back here in a bus to get on the plane.  But we have time; the border isn’t too far and Turkey is an hour behind, so it’s only 11am in turkey.” 

And so we did the following:  Walked out of the airport to the road, flagged down a city bus going to Sarpi (border town), stood in line so that A and R could get visas (90 day, multiple entry visas, $20 for US citizens, $60 for Canadians), walked across the border, negotiated a cab ride from Sarpi to Hopa (20 kilometers), arrived at the Turkish Airways terminal, checked in and checked our bags, waited, boarded a bus for Batumi, and then took a bus back to Batumi.  In all of this, at Hopa, I accidentally checked the bag with my computer in it, and in a panic went back for it, was told to hop over into the checked baggage area to get my bag, and then hopped back to the passenger area, went under a stanchion (thereby avoid security) and went back to my friends.  

(Bus from Batumi to Sarpi - the first time we crossed into Turkey)

Once on the plane, it was lovely!  They brought drinks, they feed us (very tasty food, by “been in the village too long” standards; the salad dressing was a mixture of olive oil and lemon juice!), and the plane was clean and cool.   The highlight, however, might have been the safety video, which specified that, in the event of an emergency, men should loosen their neck tie and women should remove their heels.  And then everyone should lean forward and brace for landing.  Also, apparently baby life jackets are supposed to be inflated in the plane, not outside (as is standard for adults, it seems).  

(Tasty airplane food!)

Istanbul airport is another story:  Huge airport, people from all over the world, women in all stages of covered (and uncovered).  Some women dressed like western tourists on vacation, others in various black coverings, sometimes with sunglasses and gloves to further cover themselves.  Men in “western dress” and men in more “traditional dress” – long robes and various hats.  A German couple explaining to their kids (perhaps adopted from China) why the woman behind them in line was all covered in black.  And, as my friend A pointed out, when people didn’t speak the same first language as their neighbors, strangers using English to trade information.  This sort of “useful English” is the sort of thing I wish I could show to students and teachers and others in my Georgian village.  Sadly, in my experience it is stupid to take photos in airports, so I didn’t get any documentation. 

Once through customs and immigration, we sought out the thing that A. had made the journey for – Starbucks.  Having spent months in a country where people drink tea and Turkish coffee and Nescafe and maybe a cappuccino if you know where to go, even I was excited to go to Starbucks.  My excitement was soon quelled when I saw their prices, but over the course of the next ten days, it would be a lie if I didn’t admit to going in on several afternoons for an iced coffee (which is actually difficult to get – more on that later). 

And then we left the airport and found the Metro and got to our hostel and began exploring Istanbul...

Turkey in a Nutshell

I spent the first few weeks of the summer in Turkey.

General Summary: 

I traveled with 2 friends (both English teachers) from Batumi to Istanbul (via plane).  We spent 10 nights in a hostel in Istanbul.  And then 2 of us continued on to Cappadocia via night bus (11 hours).  We spent 5 evenings at a hostel in Goreme, Cappadocia before boarding another night bus (this one 17 hours, despite being advertised as 15 hours) from Goreme to Hopa, Turkey. 

Travel logistics: 

Batumi > Istanbul:  Holy cow!  What an adventure this was!  See “How to get to Batumi Airport”. 

 (Looking down at Batumi as we fly to Istanbul)

(Tasty chocolate pudding on the airplane!)

Istanbul > Goreme:  Night bus.  11 hours.  A. and I had the last two seats on the bus – seats 51 and 52.  Which means than our seats didn’t push back.  It wasn’t a completely terrible trip for me, however.  I didn’t sleep all that well, but when I woke up at 5:30, I had a great view of dawn.  At first I was looking out and admiring the view of the lake.  The white lake.  Until I realized that when I was looking at wasn’t water.  It was salt.  The water was quite beyond the white salt area.   

(photo)

Goreme > Hopa:  From Hopa, we took a minibus to the border with Georgia, walked across, took a Batumi city bus into Batumi and collapsed at a local restaurant for several hours before I continued (via another minibus) on to Kobuleti and then Kobuleti Village. 

Istanbul: 

Istanbul is awesome.  You should go.  

I think the author of my guide book stated it beautifully with:  “Only Turks, who live among some of the oldest monuments on the planet, refer to a building erected 300-plus years ago as new.” ("Istanbul & the Turkish coast, Moon, 2010)

We visited the Blue Mosque, Süleymaniye Mosque, New Mosque, Aya Sophia, Grand Bazaar, Spice Bazaar, Basilica Cistern, Topkapi Palace, Teni Cami (aka New Mosque), Istiklal Street, a tour of the Bosphoros (which brought us to the town – were the Black Sea meets the Bosphoros).  I went to the Istanbul Pride March, attended a non-denomination church service (and was invited to their lunch afterwards, where I learned about English education in Turkey), and visited the Museum of Innocence (based on the Orham Pamuk novel). 

I went shopping for water shoes and spies and purchase a bike – which I brought 1000 miles on two long bus rides to get it back to Georgia. 

I actually didn’t read the whole time I was there.  I ate baklava, though not as much as I expected due to the price.  And, on the last day, waiting for our evening bus on the Asian side of the Bosphorous, A. taught me how to play backgammon – a popular game both in Georgia and Turkey.  

Cappadocia: 

Cappadocia is awesome.  You should go.  

We were in Goreme.  The first three days we did touristy things.  We walked in the various valleys and climbed rock formations.  And found ancient churches dug into the rocks.  (Which reminded me of why I need to do some trips when I’m young enough to climb and slid on their ass when needed.)  We did a tour which brought us to an ancient monastery, a canyon that is apparently reminiscent of the Grand Canyon, and into an underground city (Derinkuyu) that goes 8 levels down – used by many groups  over the centuries to hide (during times of war, during times of persecution of Christians).  (Other underground cities are still used by locals as root cellars and storage space.) 

The last two days were slower days – we wrote postcards, read by the pool (yes, the hostel had a pool), found gifts for our host families, and talked with others staying at the hostel.  We met Australians doing 3 week and 12 week and longer trips in Turkey and beyond.  And we met a few people doing trips that would bring them through Iran and other places that most tourists will never visit.  

(Landscape)

(Underground city at Derinkuyu)