The Bosconian

Mom in Istanbul: Going Alone

2011-10-06T08:00:00.000+03:00

Recently, my grandmother passed away. Besides being a wonderful source of inspiration, a role model, a excellent cook and pierogie extraordinaire, and my ever-present rival in a bicep-size arms race, she was one of the most dedicated readers of this blog. Although she would have loved to visit me in Turkey, her health prevented it. Instead she put together a small gift to have my mother, her daughter, visit me and report back about her time. For silly reasons, I could never manage to post the last entries. I'll miss you Grandma.

Let me introduce myself. You will not find me on Facebook under my name or any alias. If you do, tell me because it is fake if it is there. Nick calls me Mom. Only three people call me that. Others call me Nance or Nancy Krabbenhoeft. YOB: 1959. No husband, no mate, no boyfriend. Just me. In fact: no telephone, no television, no lie. Recently I've been trying to be no auto driving, only bike. That has been since Lent, and I was so pleased that I just kept up with the "fasting".

I have no career or no income. I'm getting to be real negative with positive outcome. I afforded my trip to Turkey by using my savings and eating beans and rice for most of the past year. (Note: Also a gift from your favorite mother.) So mostly no meat. This trip has basically made me a vegetarian. I call it tolerant vegetarianism because I will eat meat if I am invited to dinner and meat is on the table. If my body needs healing, and I can find the healing protein or fat in meat or fish, I'll eat it then too.

I'm also a fairly active person, jogging (slowly) at least 3 miles every day and biking average speed at least 10 miles most everyday. I hike dunes in the winter and summer and garden nine months of the year. Lots of times I look like this in my native attire.

This post will lavish praise upon myself because this month is my turn for birthday gifts to me. The best thing about me this year is that the the circumference of my pony tail, not my waistline, got fatter.

So that's me and my background. Now you know now who and what I am, and how it made a difference in approaching my trip.

The day after I went to market day with Nick and rode the bus by myself, I proudly told Nick that I wanted to do market day the next week by myself. I knew he was busy so I started doing other things by myself too. The following is an out of sequence report of hanging around in istanbul and not knowing any Turkish besides, "Stop the bus, this person needs to get off!" (Note: Pronounce this, "een-ay-jek-var.")

MARKET DAY on my own was truly one of the most satisfying accomplishments. I bought from vendors who spoke no English at all. I think I ended up with a good variety of macro and micronutrients for a good price, plus it tasted so good. I also carried all those kilos up a steep hill for about 3 kilometers by myself. The funny part of market that day was that I didn't remember exactly where the market was and after following an old women off the bus in the wrong direction, I had to tweet Nick to get instructions. In between I wandered the back streets and narrow paths of Sariyer in the drizzling rain, which was a very nice way to get to know a bit more of Istanbul not outlined in a tourist book. I miss Wednesday market day even though I only visited it twice, months ago. I can see why Nick wrote so many entries about it. (Note: Oh man do I miss that market.)

$27 of good eats for more than a week

SADBERK HANIM MÜZESI VISIT The summer house of the Koç family in Sariyer was turned into a museum by the daughter by means of expanding on the family's private collections. The museum houses the historical archaelogical section and a ethnographic section. You would not believe the beauty of silk embroidery of wedding dresses. It makes the all white wedding western style seem so terribly mundane. (Note: It's even worse when you see a museum that has wedding dresses from before and after 1923 and Westernization.) The historical fashion display in this museum was marvelous. I liked doing museums alone because it really does allow you the time to stop and not worry about boring or rushing another person. (Note: ...like minigolf) Also in seeing these expertly done displays, it is not just a passive activity. If you take the knowledge to the streets, you see what the society still holds on to.

WANDERING THE STREETS OF SARIYER. While on tourist treks I often meandered through the average neighborhood paths. In other words trying to apply the museum knowledge and the info I got from Nick to answer questions I had in my own mind. In doing so I now have a bit of understanding, right or wrong(?),

why the majority of women have strong calf muscles in their legs,
where their children play,
the beauty in not codifying and coveting every single thing about a home in a neighborhood,
why buses don't have time schedules,
how the essence of real good design is bottled, tailored, pottered, smithed, knotted, farmed, calligraphed, logoed, etc in so many objects of the people, design is innate here,
the beauty in letting things just be,
why there are no goodwill stores,
the relationships of mothers and sons and the circumcision ceremony relevance,
how the feet and cleansing of feet is relevant,
why shop owners like to bargain,
the difference in call to pray daily and the call to worship which we have once a week with the pros and cons of each,
the symbolic nature of the mideastern shepherd in the Christian/Jewish/Islamic tradition of the region. and so much more. (Note: I'd like to know her answers for all of these.)

Little pink houses

THE NATURE PARK WITH LONG BUS RIDE Here I discovered the ecology of Istanbul exploring the city park. Also more aqueducts. This was quite an oasis in the city. Special. (Note: And hopefully that will survive the government's attempts to run a highway and third Bosphorus bridge through here.)

KIDS DAY I viewed the schools celebration of kid's day Turkish style from the balcony.

Another bizarre/amazing parade you'll run into in Turkey.

COOKING: I used Nick's kitchen lots to start a sourdough (Note: I murdered that sourdough a few months later), make stock from unknown green things, make pestos from unknown green things, dolmas (Note: We failed on this one), omelettes. I ate all his hazelnuts while he wasn't looking (payback for those candy bars you snuck out of the pantry when you were a little kid, Nick). This was a great time to get to know new foods and experiment with different methods with favorites like raisins, yogurt, walnuts….

Those are major points. I am really quite long winded here. And these are my major warnings:

If you rely on a Western toilet, don't tread my path.

If you are uncomfortable communicating with gestures and nodding and drawing pictures in the air, you won't be able to do as i did or do as i didn't say.

If you need a shower and hairwash everyday, don't even scratch your head thinking of my tours.

If you can't walk more than 2 miles in one stretch, no go.

If you are afraid of being without a cell phone in a strange place, no connect. Kindles allowed sparingly.

If you are disappointed if it rains or is overcast for two thirds of your vacation don't book a cheap flight in April.

NOW if smiles, and graciousness are more important than souvenirs and goods, take the chance to GO, go, Go!

...and make sure you have it your way.

Thanks, Nick for letting me have my say and letting me write on your blog. Over the years I've written lots on the internet, probably too much about myself and my kids. It's a bit scary. I wonder about all the present day mommy bloggers and what their kids will think of them in 10 years. But in writing about my travels with Nick, an adult mother blogger relationship, I took the risk to share what I thought should be shared. I'll go back to my quiet corner after this and post a photo or two every week of a bug or a blade of grass or a flower opening it's petals and the occasional "Ask Steve" note on my me gallery.

I am right now a bit disagreeable with web writing even if I love to do it. But if I didn't take the chance to share here the wonderful time I had, I would have really wondered what it was all for anyway. What's it all about? Is it really just for the moment in our own mind that we live or for some other purpose or resolution to be shared?

I hope you liked my show and tell.

Be good, nick.

Mom in Istanbul: The Last Day

2011-10-05T17:23:00.000+03:00

It's the end of a series, but not the conclusion. Click here to read everything else. Sorry mom. I should have posted this three months ago.

The last day I was in Istanbul was ultra tourist day. I had to leave with my bags at ten in the morning and wouldn't board the airport bus until past midnight and the plane until five am the next day. Nonetheless, we figured out the logistics with my baggage and were on our way to MINIATURK! This is like a Legoland of the whole of Turkish antiquities and architecture except not with legos. From the bus loads of children there, I gathered it was a place for field trips. The school children were often very excited to say hello to us foreigners. Of course, the intellectual serious minded tourist or university student would call it kitsch, right?

Not really. (Note: Yes, really. My advisor nearly rolled his eyes out of his head when I told him where I was going.) For the cost of a good tour guide book you can make a roundtrip of Turkey ruins and the whole of Turkey tourist sites. You get a pretty good idea in 3-D of what there is to see, how many of these things are similar, how many different. If you were taking a vacation to Istanbul and wanted to do some bus trips to distant places, you might consider this a proving grounds if a side trip would be worth your while. I ended my trip this way and saw everything I didn't get a chance to see. Nick and friends made a game out of counting all the things that they had seen. Nick edged out Zak by having attended a Christian church. (Note: Ask me about attending Easter Mass at a church founded by Italians, clergied by Nigerian ministry, and accompanied by a Southeast Asian choir in a Muslim city.)

We had about eight more hours to occupy our time so we went to the city centrum to go past the tower thingy that had a long line of tourists, the Jewish museum that was closed on Fridays, downtown Taksim and the stationary store, the city mall with a huge electronic store (interesting to see a couple of different appliances). Next, we visited the Arter Modern Art Gallery, where I decided that PoMo installations have run their course of time for me, maybe not for Turks. I can't say. Lastly, the all America thing to do: MacDonalds food in Turkey. We met up with four of Nick's friends. The köfte burger was okay, but it couldn't compare with the street vendor grilled sheep intestine mixed with fat and spices and other stuff. And before you say, "ooooh yuck," at least you see everything he minces, unlike the meat in a plastic casing of your hotdog, cub fans.

At the end as Nick picked up his tray and took it to the trash can, sparking an interesting discussion. To clear trays or not to clear trays from the table? (Note: Turks don't.) Does not clearing the table actually offer more employment? I say no. Maybe initially, but not over time. Plus, it makes the well-to-do customers out of sorts with reality. We were able to get an hour of rest, and then at midnight we headed out together to the airport bus.

Nick and I said our farewells, au revoirs, wiedersehens and güle güles. No, maybe we didn't say anything but a big hug. I am getting used to this thing. I had from 1982-2005 full time, the greatest experience with three super bestest sons while living in 14 apartments or houses. (In the business world this left me qualified to be unemployed. Insert: too bad, don't care anymore.) We were a great family and then … then it was different. Now I have three grown super bestests sons in three distant places, and we are hardly ever all together. Sometimes it is sad that we haven't all sat down to a meal at the family table together for quite some time. Instead I get to visit them in the most awesome places in the world. Then I go back to my rural town, inbetween a coal power plant and steel mills. Travel tired. Still, in a little while I'll be restless again, asking the question "Where do the children play?".

"I think it's fine building jumbo planes and taking rides into cyber space, but tell me… No, but you don't have to tell me cause I know and love where they live, work and best of all play!" -Cat Stevens

Market Day: 27 July 2011

2011-07-31T21:29:00.002+03:00

A few days ago as I raced out of my apartment with a peach in hand, I faced another moment where I wished for a third hand, or velcro shoes. Not wanting put my snack on the dusty cabinet, I clenched it with my teeth... and froze while memories of Grandma's house washed over me.

Besides the slimmest fragment from my brother's birthday party in Virginia, my first memories of America are memories of Grandma's house.* The dusty blue paint, the sulfurous tap water, the checkerboard lines left by the mower in the huge backyard, I have a stronger mental image of that house than any I called home.

In the kitchen right next to the faucet that smells like rotten eggs sits a basket. Grandma keeps it overflowing with fruit all year long, but since I spent most of my time there in the summer, my memory paints it as a cornucopia stone fruits, especially peaches. I probably had eaten peaches before, but Grandma's house is where I first remember smelling my second favorite fruit.**

In three-and-a-half weeks I go home, and I see Grandma again in four. It hits me as I'm standing half-bent in my doorway unable to tie my shoes. The peach in my mouth is so big that it touches my nose. Every time I inhale, I breathe in some of the nostalgia.

Two years ago I left for Turkey. Now my Turkish is a bit better, my sense of direction is a bit sharper, and my total number of Master's degrees is now 1. In less than two months I begin living in yet another city, trying to build more language skills, hone that sense of direction, and earn another a degree. My sense of place is still unsettled.

Two days later, I went to the Beşiktaş market and bought another two kilos of peaches.

____________

* It's Grandpa's house too, but I guess it's a legacy of sexism that in my mind Grandma is the ruler of the house.
** The number one spot goes to plums. We had a half of a plum tree in our backyard in Germany. Probably not a coincidence.

Market Day: 8 June 2010

2011-06-08T17:27:00.000+03:00

I haven't been to the market in 4 weeks. 4 weeks! Can you imagine how empty my cabinets were. This called for drastic action. 75 lira, I have 25+ pounds of food on my table. My stomach is calmer at the though of the green onions, purslane, green tomatoes, red peppers, eggs, white cheese, sucuk, bulgur, walnuts, raisins, mushrooms, green plums, apricots, cherries waiting for me.

Oh yeah, the unending month of strawberries has given way to summer's true bounty, stone fruits. Look at those piles of cherries and apricots. Plums and peaches soon to come.

How to Treat Your Zac While Travelling

2011-06-07T14:36:00.000+03:00

My first piece of advice to any would be traveller is to find themselves a Zac. A Zac is an amazingly useful item not only for its ability to know something about virtually anything, but also for its accessory bag. Every Zac comes equipped with a backpack containing a cell phone, emergency sewing kit, first aid kit, travel guides, flashlights, reading material, and a compass. However, bringing a Zac comes with its own handicaps.

Thankfully, Zacs are self-propelled, but because of their size you need to buy a second ticket for any form of transportation. Also note that regular sized seats are far too small for a Zac. No matter what, he will finish the journey cramped and grumpy.

Try to find a model with removable legs so your Zac doesn't have to wedge them into the aisle. This is especially true on cramped minibuses in Georgia.

A Soviet era Lada makes for the perfect transit vehicle for your Zac. The engineers' lack of concern for safety resulted in a vehicle with an enormous cabin which allows for the comfortable transport of up to three Zacs, not counting the driver. A Zac might also come in handy when taking a taxi up a treacherous road to a medieval monastery. Should the drive wheels begin to lose grip, seat you Zac over them for a quick fix.

There are other troubles with size though. For instance, some building owners discriminate against Zacs and purposefully install low ceilings.

Anti-tallism, just another reason Rize was not our favorite stop on this trip.

The historical bias against tall Zacs will further limit your ability to see the sights lest you opt for a Zac with the tight quarters package.

Did monks of Vardzia have to give up their Zacs in addition to their worldly possessions?

This must be some sort of cruel joke by the teachers of the Çifte Minareli Medrese to belittle their wealthy students who brought Zacs.

Despite the difficulties, a Zac is an invaluable addition to any trip. Make all attempts to procure before your next journey.

In Georgia, They Speak Georgian, Nick Does Not

2011-06-05T09:34:00.001+03:00

August 2008, I'm standing in Atatürk International Airport. No phone, no internet, just directions to find a guy with a sign that said HOYAS. After two hours of fruitless searching, I change tactics and look for other out-of-place American college students. Immediately, I spot a guy heads above every Turkish man in the area. After an awkward introduction, we establish that yes we are on the same exchange program and finally find our ride.

That was my introduction into the world of Zac, a South Dakotan taller than all of Delaware. We shared a room in Alanya, and last year he joined me at Koç. Among his many, many talents, he is the most talented travel agent you'll ever meet. During the Alanya program he visited every major site from Antiquity in the Southwest of Anatolia in five days by himself. This Spring Break we pieced together an nontraditional but amazing tour of Northeast Turkey and Georgia. Here's a brief photo log of that journey.

Full of enthusiasm we start our hike to the Sumela Monastery in Trabzon, carrying all of luggage. That's right, seven days, one backpack.

With half of my planned wardrobe already soaked with sweat, we gaze on the magnificence of the monastery's painted chapel.

And notice the signs who have defaced it before us.

More 13th century paint! This time in the porch of the Hagia Sophia of Trabzon.

An overnight bus to Tblisi (თბილისი) and a mashrutka ride to Mtskheta (მცხეთა). If possible schedule a visit during a major feast day. Having lived in a Muslim country for so long, stumbling into an active Sunday service surprised Zac and me.

Not only is Georgian it's own language, it has it's own alphabet. Zac and I did our best to learn the alphabet, but deciphering city names on the sides of speeding minibuses strained those attempts. Also, English, Turkish, German, Spanish, none of these will get you very far in Georgia. Russian will, but I barely remember how to count in that language.

Gori, the birthplace of Stalin and our first encounter with the old Soviet InTourist hotel chain. After finding nothing but construction supplies and this creepy red lit doorway, we ran away. We were too afraid of it being a strip club full of Georgian gangsters to enter.

Off to restorative springs of Borjomi! Oh, crumbling Soviet infrastructure again. Also, the warm spring water tastes like rotten eggs. The cold spring water has bubbles, but also tastes like rotten eggs.

Off to Akhaltsikhe then. This time we did stay in a former InTourist hotel. It too appeared to be abandoned before an old lady found us wandering the halls. We liked the space heater and 12-feet high ceilings so much that we stayed two nights!

Visit the cave monastery complex of Vardzia. There's still a functioning monastery there and a jaw-droppingly gorgeous church.

Do not go down strange tunnels at Vardzia with only the focus light of your camera lighting the way. They most likely end like an H.P. Lovecraft story, though I spooked after a few hundred meters.

Sweet Turkey! We bought bus tickets to Turkey's remotest border crossing. We weren't told that there wasn't an actual bus. Instead, the company's owner picked us up in his car and drove us to the border. On the other side, we rode in his son's van for half-an-hour before finally transferring to a luxurious Mercedes Benz bus to Kars.

Riding the Mercedes through Turkey's snow capped mountains.

Among a number of other monuments in Kars, you can see the only Russian Orthodox Church that has been converted into a mosque. The Turks had to take the city back from the Russians after World War I, although this mosque wasn't converted until the 1990s. The name of the mosque? Victory Mosque, of course.

Kars is more important as the best staging point for a visit to Ani, the ruined medieval Armenian city that once rivaled Constantinople in size. Now all you can see is a stark landscape dotted with a Zoroastrian fire temple, Armenian churches, and Seljuk mosques.

By the way, Ani is just inside the Turkish side of the tense border with Armenia. No visiting the castle!

The easiest way to escape the desolation of northeastern Anatolia is through the airport in Sivas. Of course, that allows for a brief visit to the Seljuk monuments of Erzurum like the ostentatiously intricate Çifte Minareli Medrese. Tomorrow, what to buy while wheeling around to all of these destinations.

Mom in Istanbul: April 19

2011-06-04T09:32:00.000+03:00

We've nearly reached the end of the series, which sadly means we'll be returning to my irregular programming next week. Before I start talking about things I did in March, enjoy this account of how I made my Mom walk five kilometers during her vacation. I think she only has one more post left, so read it while it's hot.

The two Tuesdays of my trip to Istanbul were touristy Tuesdays. This is the second one. We started off at the Spice Market where you can buy literally everything in one big block, not one bigbox. (Note: Monkeys are no officially longer sold in the animal market. Philosophically, it's sad that despite the American love of individuality, we chosen to condense our vendors into one big box. I'm going to miss Turkey.) Nick started off with some kind of chicken snack, which he didn't share, but there was pepper tasting to be done at the spice market anyway. (Note: I didn't know she was hungry) Outside there was seed and feed, dry goods and meat markets.

I still wish I would have bought one of those wooden coffee table chairs and some kind of Turkish teapot, but, oh well. I did end up with a good wooden ladle, spices, seeds, coffee, etc., plus visits to awesome kitchen supply stores (could not fit giant, giant whisk in luggage), a knife shop about 50 square feet but with a larger variety of knives than I'd ever seen before. We then visited the mosques which were originally funded by the surrounding markets; passed oldtime student housing, aqueducts, modern day ruins (abandoned buildings); and walked the side streets to treats like boza, fermented chickpeas.

Chickens are not allowed in your luggage.

This was delicious, and yes, I will be trying this at home someday.

Hometown Indiana girl gets wide-eyed looking up.

The tiles are really the spectacular thing here. I call it the "green' mosque because of all the CFLs. (Note: Turkey already has a Green Mosque. It's in Bursa, and its tiles are turquoise.)

This day was also a lesson in bargaining. I am no good at bargaining, not in goods, not in divorces, not in getting noticed on the internet for a career, not in anything. Most of the time people laugh all the way to the bank while they rip me off behind my back and call me naïve or just plain dumb. I just figure that laughing to the bank is a pretty boring way to spend your life. I laugh all the way to the beach because I'm happy and not at someone else's misfortune or missed fortune, but because I have a different sense of value and virtue. At the second-hand book market, Nick tried to teach me some skills when I bought something for twice its worth. $5 misspent. I really like buying food better as there is usually teaste testing and no bargaining. I did get a 70 cent reed calligraphy tool for my Apple G4 desktop graphic design shrine. I placed it next to the Steve photo and thought the juxtaposition of Calligraphy-Reed-Jobso is quite fitting.

Then Nick showed me how he developed his bargaining skills by buying his cura. There was a bit of a detour first. We nearly walked right into a battalion of police and while I was getting my camera ready, Nick was urged me to get out of the way. It turns out that we had run into a Kurdish demonstration with a minor smoke bomb incident. (Note: It was a molotov cocktail and they set a store facade on fire. Luckily, all the owners had lowered their security gates so the only damage was charred metal.) This was not on my list of things to see, so I consider it a bonus.

The Kurds are wanting fair representation in parliament, and the election commission had just blocked most of their candidates, hence the demonstration. I don't follow politics. It's too much of a strategy game, waste of time for me. Not in the US and not in Turkey. I do know that the Kurds are always in a bind. I like the German words: verbindnis and verbundnis. They feel a binding –as in the spine of a book– to the land, but they have no bundle with the government voices. So it's always the game of paper, scissors, rock with the three countries that pound out the rules on their palms. Man, do I know how that feels.

After the demonstration the music store that Nick wanted to go to reopened, and Nick's hunt for his cura began. We visited three or four shops with all qualities and prices and then ended up back in Taksim where Nick became the proud owner of a new instrument for a very good price. (Note: I feel I got ripped off, but that's how I feel anytime I spend more than five bucks.) All along this way we passed different shops of textiles and I noted the amazing fashion detail in Islamic dress for women, the wide variety of detail in tailoring and dressmaking skills, fabrics, notions, etc. It was a very satisfying day, which we ended with a drink of coffee. Yes, me and coffee, something I do not usually drink, but it tasted surprisingly good because it was not so burnt roasted. Strong and pleasurable.

It's a done deal! Nick checks strings while Atatürk star gazes.

Nick wears his old man's hat.

Sitting here with his new çura I thought I heard Yusuf Islam:

…look at me i'm old, but i'm happy. I was once where you are now and I know that it's not easy to be calm when there is something going on.

A Turkish coffee, for the finishing touch

And some street art with a touch of green hope, plus a smiling man with whiskers!

Exercise Parks in Turkey

2011-05-27T20:10:00.001+03:00

Compared to American men only half as many Turkish men are obese. But about 35% of both countries female populations could lose a lot of weight. But when the average housewife can look forward to cooking and yelling at the housekeeper, there's not a lot of opportunity to escape the house. Many people enjoy walking through parks along along seashores with their friends and family, so the government has installed exercise equipment along those routes, or as I like to think of them adult playgrounds.

Fun Bright Colors!

I'm not even sure what some of these machines are supposed to do. One machine looks like the steering wheel from a semi-truck with a handle to spin it. Others are recognizable from As-Seen-On-TV exercise equipment ads like the Tony Little Gazelle. I think my friend is using this one backwards.

My favorite bit is that many of the machines are for two people, so you and a friend can do some no-to-low impact exercise at the same time. You can even have races!

I win!

Yes, I do drag all my visitors to an adult playground at some point because they're hilarious good times. I also use them when I'm out running because they help break the monotony of 15 km of plodding. And I always jump on machines that I've never seen before.

You won't see a lot of fifty year old grandmothers jumping on a log rolling machine, but you will see plenty swinging on the Gazelle or spinning the hand wheels. I don't think they'll lose a lot of weight with these things, but who cares as long as they're having fun?

Congratulations to me! 100 posts! I've thought about this topic for nearly three years. The first picture is from Alanya in 2008 and the last video is from Istanbul this April. I think it's an appropriate posts. By the way, my mom has written more about her trip to Turkey, but she'd like to hear what people thought about her other posts. Post a comment or send her an email if you've been enjoying writing.

El Cinco de Mayo

2011-05-18T18:55:00.000+03:00

May 5, 2011 marked the 149th anniversary of the Mexican military anticipating my birth by 125 years and winning the Battle of Puebla, which involved beating an expeditionary force of crack French soldiers trying to install a new European emperor in Mexico. And while the French eventually did get Maximillian on the throne, that hiccup stopped them from reinforcing the Confederacy during the American Civil War. So thank you Mexico, helping to abolish of slavery is an amazing present.

Lesser in grandeur and less remote in time, my friends pitched in for a fantastic birthday this year. I don't like birthday parties, but they were determined to accommodate me and celebrate it. I had three rounds of baked goods to eat. Deniz gave me leftover chocolate cake. Joan made me peanut butter cookies in a desperate attempt to use some of her stockpile. Perhaps in the grandest jester, Ashley made a strawberry, Kool-Whip, and jello cake straight out of the fifties and let us eat it out the pan with spoons. I might adopt trough-style cake as my newest birthday tradition.

The fifth also marks one of the few days of the year where I loosen the purse strings without guilt. I've gotten into a habit of buying kitchen knives after airport security confiscated mine last December. Sometimes you take a ten-inch chef's knife to cook at a friend's house and forget to take it out of your bag when you go home. Then you go to the airport to pick up your dad, and whoomp, there it goes. Sigh. Slightly worse, when the security guard who spots the knife calls it a kobra, lumping me in with guys that dance like this.

Anyway, my friend Trevor gave me a new knife for Christmas. In recognition of its ridiculous faux snakeskin handle, I've named him Tex. Then I supplemented that knife with a new chopper in February. This curved monster dices kilos of onions, can be held with both hands on the blade to push my weight through frozen food, and even functions as a rudimentary spatula for my bleary-eyed 7 AM sourdough scrambled eggs.

I've also learned my lesson about bringing knives through security checkpoints though. Enter the mall. Approach the x-ray machine man calmly. Pull out your knife. State, "I have a really big kitchen knife," in your best Turkish. It works surprisingly well, especially when you follow that with a desperate explanation that it's for your girlfriend's cheesecake.

For my birthday I picked up a börek knife. To be honest, I bought it for looks as much as functionality, but it has done a good job chopping up the nameless green leafy things I've been buying at the market.

Soon to be chopping leafy green things out of my herb pots too.

It was a regular day too. I found some new texts for my thesis at a research library. I went weightlifting with Zac where I set a couple new personal bests after weeks of struggle. And I watched The Fast and The Furious with the help of Georgian cognac and moonshine from our trip in April.

The best is last though, because it may be quite possibly the coolest thing I've ever received for my birthday. My girlfriend had my signature turned into a wax seal; something I have muttered about but didn't think was possible. How cool is this?

Don't Forge This!

By the way, this blog has hit 99 posts. That's nearly 3 posts a month for the past 3 years. I thought I was much slower than that, but really I should be a bit more prolific. I hope you like the new old man gracing the header image to the blog. It's been nearly a year since I finished the lion drawing, so it was time for a change.

Mom in Istanbul: April 14-15

2011-05-17T07:11:00.002+03:00

Technically, this post should be called Mom in Turkey, but Outside of Istanbul. Anyway, our brief jaunt into Anatolia.

I've had trouble writing this post. My words are just lost on all that I felt and experienced. I will have to rely heavily on photos, but even if pictures speak in thousands of words, there is much left unsaid; or moreso, much unable to be expressed about a wonderful minivacation within my visit to Turkey.

My notebook recap I drew when we were back in Istanbul.

"A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving." -Lao Tzu

Now that we had arrived in Kastamonu, we had to decide what to do today - with our minds on what we would do tomorrow too. This involves some kind of forward and backward simultaneous thinking. Thank goodness for our borek because they were a great breakfast to get us started on our mile plus walk-and-talk or talk-and-walk before reaching the city center. (Note: That was my fault, I forgot to ask the attendant to let us off near the center.) In the city center we headed for the tourist office.

I have never been treated to such hospitality in any travel office as what was extended here. Right away we were led to a separate office, invited to sit down at a desk, and then served tea. While Nick did the conversing, I sat and tried to understand gestures and body language. I didn't understand much that was said verbally or nonverbally, but I did come away impressed and with a book in hand. Yes, a book, not brochure, of photos from the region that inspired our plans for the day. This was gonna be great. We could make a tentative plan. Although I thought we would go nature hiking, we decided that with limited funds and no car of our own we would need to make some compromises. Hiking in the hills was one of them.

Kastamonu's River Walk

While talking things over, we climbed up the streets of the town instead of a nature path to the ruins of a castle to see what we could see.

From there we planned to head to the city market, get a place to sleep for the night, head out by taxi to a very rare example of a wooden mosque, visit the handicrafts institute/museum, and then see where we were. Of course, we would taste the regional specialities, too. It started with helva, a kind of super deluxe cotton candy, but it is much more refined. The final product, very fresh and very tastey.

We continued to go through shops and side streets, where Nick bought me a yufka stick. It is not much more than a 3/4 inch dowel rod, but since it is an official Turkish yufka stick and not just a wooden rod, I am thinking there is a blessing included that will help me roll out some dough when I get around to trying it out here in the states. Nick also picked up some stewing plums which would be an important ingredient for some şerbet once we got back to Istanbul. We were able to find a very inexpensive place to sleep, and then we headed out per taxi to the mosque. (Note: Our hotel room was offensively cheap. It consisted of two beds tetris-ed into a room and a 9 inch TV that seemed enormous given the circumstances. I tread my guests well.)

There are places that are special that you want to photograph, and then there are places so special that it seems impossible to photograph. The mosque was one of these places to me. You knew it when you entered the doors, which had been stolen a few years back and once again returned. Seven hundred years-old and just an amazing site to see because of the wonderful preservation.

Outside the mosque I saw some romantic Turkish countryside. I won't be exhaustive this time with my words. You can imagine.

Better than an organized green tour. No show, no tell, no sell. Just well.

Next stop would be the handicrafts museum/institute. Weaving, knitting, printing textiles, woodcrafts, rugmaking, farming all on site. Old world craftsmanship to admire and young Turks keeping these crafts and treasures alive. The girls were also admiring Nick.

We had tea with a director who explained (a bit in english) the institute, its purpose, and its history. We then slid in a visit to a local ethnography museum, fit in a meal at a local restaurant with superb service: mincemeat pastry, yogurt soup, and a lentil dish, and took a brief rest. Luckily it was Tourism Week at Kastamonu, so we visited the free opening concert that evening with the city choir and bağlama and ney musicians.

Hand-knotted vintage edging from the ethnography museum.

Poet (Note: Unsurprisingly, I'm jealous of that 'stache.)

Musicians

In sixteen hours we had packed more into one day than we could ever pack into our backpacks: full of people and places to remember a lifetime. Before falling asleep we agreed to move on by bus to Bolu, a place known for its sweetgrass perfume, the following morning. There, in Bolu, we would be treated to more tea from shop owners, handmade mulberry fruit leather, hazelnut krokant candies, an assortment of Turkish gardening seeds, and a local women sales fair - selling handmade stuffed grape leaves and other baked goods, sock, socks, and more socks full of patterns. (Note: My mom became enamored with Turkish socks right before her visit and used her time here to grab pattern ideas.) We also fit in a quick restaurant visit for a mash of tomatoes, bulgurs, and spice wrapped in a flatbread with greens and lemon juice. All-in-all another very complete day. I could have even checked off the hamam visit that was on my list, but decided that would not be this trip because I was still recovering from the poison ivy rash on my torso. How do you explain poison ivy in hand language to a turkish masseuse?

Hmmmm, sweet smells. (Note: The choice between smelling like Shepherd or Tobacco Flower is surprisingly hard.

Patterns galore to warm feet

I call this statue in Bolu, "Turn your swords into bağlama shares instead of plowshares"

We decided to take the train home that evening instead of cramming another day of touring. My funds were limited. We had experienced much and had yet to add a trainride into Istanbul's ornate main station, a relaxing dinner at Çiya, a ferry across the strait, and final hike up the steep streets of the city. This would complete this mini vacation inside my vacation, well worth what I spent.

Train stations still make you feel important upon arrival and not like just another piece of freight

Sheep intestinal fortitude wraps. At Çiya Sofrası you see the food being made and then point to what you want to eat. (Note: This is true for Turks too because often they've never seen or eaten the dishes on display.)

After one delicious dinner with three more dishes (see above plus stuffed dried eggplantö, a hearty mixed bean and vegetable stew, and a sorbet drink), we managed more city climbing, walking through nighttime Taksim. The bus ride back home would be the last effort. However, we missed the bus by two seconds, the lag between me and keeping up with Nick, but wait.... Nick yelled, "Quick!" and we dashed across some streets cutting corners, possibly catching the bus around the bend. It really was quite an amazing race and I did my best to keep up. Nick had to slow down a bit for me again, resulting in the inability to flag down the bus driver to stop, by one second this time. Third option, a ride in the Istanbul subway, clean-uncrowded and relaxing at midnight. To finish off the transportation multiplicity that day, we took a taxi, what Nick called Istanbul's most technologically advanced taxi with three screens playing the latest forgettable Tom Cruise movie.

We were home and I had experienced the best ever two days in Turkey. If I would have had to end my trip in one week, I would have been completely satisfied. As it was, I was in for another week of quiet adventuring, moreso on my own. I won't give you a daily rundown of each day of the second week. I will give you my reflections and refractions in a few fusion fixations.

Mom in Istanbul: April 13

2011-05-07T19:22:00.001+03:00

Part 4 of my intrepid mother's adventures in Turkey, this time contained mostly within my kitchen and a bus.

So where was I…

Oh, yes, meeting up with Nick in downtown Sariyer to buy bus tickets and exchange cash, which is very, very convenient in Istanbul wherever you are. Then a bus ride back to Nick's place where we still had yufka in the refrigerator. We had to use them up because they dry out easily. It was 6pm and we had two hours to pack and to make börek before starting an overnight busride to Kastamonu.

Börek. Start with your yufka, single ply sheets of a phyllo dough about 50 cm in diameter. Traditionally, they are rolled out amazingly fast by Anatolia women sittting on the ground with a wooden board and a thin rolling pin. It is an amazing thing to see, and I guess it's also a test of your preparedness for womanhood as a young girl. Modern times may laugh at such a thought, but what tests do we have anymore for such, besides the ability to text message three people at one tme, which is way more silly and -believe me- not even close to 25% as satisfying as a yufka filled with surprises.

I've made homemade strudel dough before and written about it on the internet way back in the previous millennia, but yufka are different in that they are shortly toasted before filled but still pliable. You can buy them pre-made almost anywhere in Istanbul.

You cut them in half, butter them, fill them with things, roll them up, bake them, and enjoy. They are then called gül borek (rose börek.) You can do other things with them in different shapes and fillings and they are called other things. Nick and I made roses. In street food you see them filled mostly with cheese, meat, potatoes. Again, Nick and I were out to be different and we created yummy vegetable, bulgur, and bean mixtures, which will remain secret recipes and totally awesome if you ever get to taste them. We didn't butter ours like the ones you find in small local places around the city, but we did top them off with a bit of oil. We ate them fresh, and they turned out delicious.

But not being able to finish them all, I said to Nick we should take some along on our trip, which made us look like Kentucky hillbillies, but then again, that is what a part of us is anyway. To thine own history of self be true.

Our yufka's before going in the oven and a view of Nick's biceps too. (Note: Vacation or not, Mom came to the gym with Zac and me four times during her stay.)

So when the packing and fooding was finished, we headed back down the hill to the metro station.

Say cross country busride in America and I don't think you'd get any cheers. Say cross country busride in Turkey and hear yummmm...donu..., I mean, prepackaged honey cake (in my best Homer Simpson voice). No, not really, but yes, really. The Turkish bus system is something the US would do well to emulate. You buy a ticket at a local office. Throughout Istanbul and larger cities mini buses act as shuttle buses to a larger terminal on the outskirts. These terminals are almost like mini airports: clean, with kiosks, television screens, food services, etc. In smaller cities the terminals are usually further from the city, but usually have stops within the city center. The buses themselves are clean, comfortable, and some even have seats that move left or right to allow for more corpulent customers. There is a driver or two on the bus and a couple service stewards. You are served pre-packaged crackers or cakes and juice or tea or coffee. Nothing gourmet, mind you, but a service gesture of hospitality, nonetheless. And always the tidy moist towelette, which are very useful to save for other matters along the trip.

During the winter when I was contemplating this trip, Nick asked me where I would like to go. At first I was thinking some famous ruin, but then I thought national park. Anyone who knows me here in Indiana knows how much I love, really love, our lake and national lakeshore. As a downstate Hoosier, Hesitation Point in Brown County State Park was my retreat many a weekend. So I asked Nick to look into a National Park or something of the sort we could visit. He came up with the city of Kastamonu. So on Thursday evening after an art museum tour and a börek dinner, that is where my touring would take me. It was an overnight 6-7 hour ride with sleep. Around 6am I awoke to this gorgeousness:

"And the fog was liftin', and I thought this land was made for you and me!" -Woodie Guthrie

Since it is Nick's birthday, (Note: I'm slow to put these up.) I'll have one more post to lavish praise on him. Then it will stop. Honestly, I think it made a whole lot of difference that Nick spoke or tried to speak Turkish wherever we went. The people could see we were foreign tourists a mile away. Whenever we needed information others would start to speak in English. Nick would interrupt, "Türkçe…". The person would smile and then a conversation would start. Also, I am not nearly as physically fit as Nick, an able-bodied 25 year old male, (Note: I was 23 at the time, but maybe this was a leap year.) but for a 51 year old female I did a pretty darn good job keeping stride. Had we been a mother/son amazing race team, as the end of our trip felt so, we'd have been totally awesome.

Mom in Istanbul: April 12-13

2011-05-03T21:09:00.001+03:00

Having exhaustively described April 10 and April 11, My mom continues to write about her time visiting me in Turkey, in the form of an incredibly detailed evaluation of me as a tour guide/host. As always, I've inserted additions via Notes.

Being a stay home mom for 24 of my 26 years of marriage afforded me two things:

1) Lots of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with my boys

and

2) Lots of do it yourself activities that allowed me, well, yes, to get things done.

These things are core to my life and so they would be core to my trip. Sharing time with Nick doing things, not just seeing things, and preparing and sharing meals with him.

Another "think" I realized in the past five years is that without the daily interactions of my sons, time had gotten away from me. Once they left high school and college they scattered more far than near. I spent those years moving away from mothering them. As for the meal section of my life, it is spent talking to myself, and meal prep time is spent exploring with the attitude, "How can I do this different, better, and sometimes not so better?" Visiting Nick, I saw that without the daily interactions, growth and maturity is not casually observed in sequence like a grand meal prepared step by step, but takes leaps and bounds. One day or many one days, one after another, my third son, Nick grew into a fine young (Note: Mom left this blank accidentally, so I will too. Fill in what you will. For instance, I enjoy, "Nick grew into a fine young steamboat captain.")

The conversations I had with him on my trip left me wondering: how and when did this kid get so darn intelligent? Nick has always been a smart kid, but talking with him during my stay, he really is knowledgeable in his study of arts and world heritage. Add to that his work in archiving, he made a great tour guide. Not really surprised, his brothers are just as smart and just as interesting to talk to and visit in their distant cities, too.
Let the tourist trekking begin.

My do-it-yourself lifestyle ever since I made my first pair of 4-H slippers when I was a 10-year-old had influenced my to-do and to-see list: calligraphy museum, handicrafts museum, arts museums, open markets and cooking turkish foods. Combining meals, conversation and crafts experiences in my creative interests was the goal of my trip; that is, right after I could buy a pair of knock-off chucks to comfortably walk around the city at a quick pace. Nick is quite a quick guy.

In Istanbul April brings out the tulips. It was how we started the Tuesday tour, a visit to the tulip festival. First we stopped at the exercise playground built for adults who have gotten a bit out of shape over the years and need to get back in the swing of things. Yes, they have adult playgrounds.

Tulip garden public art display and one of the ever vigilant Turkish clean-up guys in the parks.

The Yellow Kiosk of Emirgan Park, well kept and overlooking the garden and strait.

The ubiquitous evil eye and its vigilance (or surveillance?) (Note: We went a couple days too early for the whites to bloom. Kismet.)

After the tulip garden we toured the Japanese garden of Istanbul . This is small zenny place that honors the sibling city in Japan. Actually if you took away the red sun on the Japanese flag and put in a red sky at night for sailor's delight, you would see the moon and stars appear on the Turkish flag. Nice complement. Then, during a walk along the Bosphorus Nick pointed out interesting facts about the city, its heritage, its triumphs, and its struggles. After a full day of walking and talking, we ended with a very special desert of chicken breast (fiber) custard, which was terrific. We found one last fish seller so that we could buy our kilo of anchovies to cook up some fried in cornmeal carbs, protein and omega fats. I treated Nick to a side dish creation of red cabbage with walnuts and onions..

Japanese Garden

Chicken fiber custard, pudding stuff with cinnamon. Awesome!

The following day Nick really started giving me instructions on how to explore by myself, like the apartment complexes service bus. A few missteps, but mission accomplished. Onwards to… market day, something Nick has written about numerous times and something that I really was looking forward to. It was really amazing, grape leaves, yufka, cheese, nuts, raisins, beans, dried berries, flowering tops of some type of green, wooden spoons, eggs, carrots, zucchini filled our bags and backpacks. Really a cook's dream. This got extra stars next to the check box on my list.

Yufka, explained next time

The afternoon would be just as wonderful with a trip to the Sabanci museum. Nick sent me off on the bus by myself. I passed the chance to see the Rumelihısarı castle ruins in lieu of a bright sunny walk on the strait again, because as the saying goes, "If you want to see something different, take the same walk you did yesterday." The spring skies had ripped open to fields of blue and sunshine at last. On this day I would see more of the coastal roadway and its buildings since I was alone and just walking, not talking.

I ended up at the Sabanci Museum which had no special exhibits open, just its private collection turned into just-the-right size and scope presentation of the history of Islamic calligraphy housed in a beautiful old ornate mansion. I suffer museum fatigue easily, so I appreciated its thoroughness without being overwhelmed. I was inspired, so much so, that when I got back to Nick's place, I sketched the events of the day in my journal.

Garden with fabulous view at Sabancı Museum

Remember human justice is not really blind in man or woman's eyes. I call this: Justice dreams while the dog takes watch. It was in the gardens of the Sabanci estate.

Looking back at my notebook back in Indiana.

To contrast the old calligraph and design on Wednesday, Thursday I headed down to the Istanbul Modern. Artists who never get into the history of modern art in your art history classes show up in this museum. The installations and post modern pieces were interesting, but I was most amazed by expressionists from Turkey. You might want to do a search for some artwork by Hikmet Onat or Nurulla Berk or Ihsan Cemal Karaburçak to see what I mean.

In the midst of my modern experience I did get a message from Nick that our road trip plans had changed, so I had best get back to the apartment right away. Relaying all our info with my kindle, no cell phone, smart phone, or netbook in the drizzling rain, our effort to meet up in Sariyer was accomplished. Another day another checkmark on my list and ***** after each.

Later that night we were headed for a busride of inner Turkey, which I still can't believe we fit in so quickly and how marvelously everything turned out. A post for tomorrow or the day after.

Mom in Istanbul: April 11

2011-04-28T15:56:00.001+03:00

It looks like my mom is up for writing a blow-by-blow account of her journey, which means I'll have to interrupt her if I ever want to post again. In this installment, we learn that Nick shares his propensity for compound-complex run-on sentences with his mom. We also learn that the Krabbenhoeft's have no problem interrupting each other in the middle of a story, just like they do in real life conversations. Finally, we learn all about Nick's campus, although not the parts most college guides would emphasize. Find her first post here.

After 26 hours of NWI commuter train, Chicago "L", transatlantic Swissair jets, transeuropean planes, Turkish airport shuttle, (sneak in a very delicious mincemeat pie at a small food place in Taksim for $4,) then another city bus, a private mini bus, plus my own two feet walking up a steep hill, I had made it to my destination, a bit tired but still running the high of being in a new exciting place. Added to that, I got a Bursa candied chestnut, a delicious Turkish regional delight as a bonus before I could settle down to sleep and decide what I was going to do for the next 12 days. Of course, Nick wanted to show me his university the next day and was correct in that it would be a good wind down activity in a calming atmosphere. So that is where my touring started.

Enter Koç University

Nick attends Koç University. I already knew some of the Koç history. It's a new university founded by the Turkish industrialist Vehbi Koç. It's a relatively small campus compared to what I know of Indiana University. Of course, everyone has to start somewhere. The layout is very Wellsian to me, set high above the water in the midst of a forest. Okay, I am going to sprinkle a H B Wells (Former President and Chancellor of Indiana University) quote in here. Sometimes the youth forgets how important founders have thought about what you need for a good education.

(Note: Like many things in Turkey, this entire campus may or may not be illegally constructed.)

An increasingly urban America needs the breathing space of natural green areas. Succeeding generations of alumni, faculty, students, and staff have here united in a determined effort to keep intact our natural green quadrangles and to provide for new ones as the campus expands. To cut a tree unnecessarily has long been an act of treason against our heritage and the loyalty, love, and effort of our predecessors who have preserved it for us. (1974) H B Wells

The architect is from Boston, and the buildings and layout are wonderful. If ever a nationality be respectful of the principals and elements of design, I think it would be the Turkish. (Note: The architect modeled the campus after palace-cities of the Mughal empire of India, who were Turkic.) Pattern and repetition, they have perfectly down pat. Harmony, dominance, and unity provide a solid core. Physically the university respects all these and more.

Pattern, Repetition, Unity, etc.

A stone mosaic that I find so simple, yet amazes me with its precision.

Nick works in the library and gave me a grand tour. Monday, April 11 was also his first day back after his spring break in Trabzon, Georgia, and Kars. (Note: I'll write about this in the very near future.) Yes, I am a bit jealous that my son gets to travel to such unique places living here in Turkey. Well, actually I am glad for him that he takes the chance to see the world while he is here and not stay in his room playing computer games. (Note: I do really miss Wii Fit though.)

Nick found me a quiet corner in the library. I spent the first few hours quietly going through some books and just relaxing. The university courses are all taught in English and there are many books in English that I found of interest; the Egyptian history of wheat, a book of colors and natural dyes, aerial photography of Istanbul, and magazines to entice me in different corners of Turkey during my stay. Though most interesting were the books in Turkish with partial translations on Turkish handcrafts. I took notes on the meaning and identification of handknit socks. And while many people may think homeopathy and foot reflexology could be quackery (Note: It is,) I can now understand the meaning of color, dye, pattern, technique, in making foot coverings relating to mental/physical and emotional health and the social and cultural meanings. I had accomplished something academically in my first day. Yeah! for me, because my faith in education had been waning for the past few years. I'll never be trapped in a school again, but a morning in the library had done me good. Plus I received my first Turkish tea from the Nick's çaycı. (Note: A çaycı is generally a woman in an office who brings everyone tea, keeps things tidy, and chats with people to fill the time between those two. Çaycı's are fantastic.) Turks love to share tea, but because it is strong black tea, I have a bit of a dilemna balancing my refusal of too much caffeine and my acceptance of welcoming manners. More tight wires to walk! At lunchtime I met Nick in the school cafeteria that served "cafeteria food," but nonetheless also had a bunch of fresh vegetables and pul biber to sprinkle. You can improve any food with a sprinkling of pul biber, pepper flakes. Even though the weather was a bit cloudy I wanted to spend the afternoon outdoors photographing the campus and getting some fresh air.

A bit more natural setting of the campus that provides a necessary contrast.

Later Nick and I made a trip up the campus tower to a tea room that was quite a beautiful indoor oasis on campus. Modeled after tea rooms of the nineteenth century, it was sublime just to sit quietly in front of the water fountain at the highest point of campus.

We walked home and got some things to eat at the small shops near the apartment complex where Nick lives. The foodie part of Turkey had begun. Dinner was great, even if i didn't fully clean my super fresh garden spinach greens and had to catch the worm on my serving plate instead of in the sink. (Note: I ate my spinach by closing my eyes and violently gnashing on the salad, lest I felt anything wiggle.) Day 1 was finished, and I felt acclimated. The next day was a bit more routine. We started the day exercising in the gym and then set off for some city touring.

A final note on dogs in Turkey. Dogs are not really house pets in Turkey, and don't ask me how the strays know where to take up outdoor residence. I do know that dogs know justice more so than a blindfolded woman, so it seems appropriate to attach this photo here of the campus dog.

(Note: I haven't figured out what to call this dog yet. I already gave "George" to a stray in George and "Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper" to a pair near my apartments. I'm thinking Salah ad-Din.)

Mom in Istanbul: April 10

2011-04-25T22:28:00.001+03:00

I have loved hosting all of my guests in Turkey, but my mom's visit this April was something else. Not only did she have no problem exploring on her own when I couldn't escape campus, she cooked breakfast and dinner, started a sourdough, taught me how to use some new veggies, and even wrote blog posts. While I've been lax in posting here for awhile, Mom has promised a whole cascade of updates, so I'll wait for her to finish before interrupting with my own stories. I'm posting these with as little editing as possible. By the way, check out this completely amazing way to browse my blog.

Arriving in Istanbul as a white euro-american, you feel different but not completely foreign. There is the familiarity of European influence high and low and the unfamiliarity of Asia, Arabia, and the religion of Mohammed near and far. This just served as a reminder to explore this land looking in every nook and cranny. Most Americans affording a trip to Turkey will be staying in the older, historic section of the town with its many starred hotels catering even beyond the expected levels of service. I chose differently. I wanted to do Istanbul on a budget of less than $1500 total. I managed to stay way below my budget and experience much more than I ever thought possible as I checked off each day what was on my to do list and wrote down each night what I had done in a day.

I also had to encompass this trip within the last weeks of Lent, depending on which day I actually started Lent. (Note: Somehow my mom started Lent a week or two early. Also the Sundays during Lent apparently don't count towards the forty days.) My Lenten experience this year involved relearning the value of pen, paper, and ink over the digital, and relearning how to get about without my car. I no longer call these things lenten sacrifices because the word sacrifice tends to imply some kind of pain in today's vocabulary and doesn't stress the holy or sacred root of sacrifice. So with this prelude I begin the recap of my voyage to this city, my many experiences explained and many others unexplained, kept sacred because of their value and virtue.

Istanbul is second to Shanghai in city population proper, without suburbs. We really are talking megacity. It blows my mind in America that many of my neighbors and fellow citizens will actually not even know where Istanbul is. I blame this on grade school Geography and Social Studies being so Western Europe Centric and high school courses on those subjects being totally USAmerican. So, to begin this jaunt: Istanbul is where east meets west on the map and on the culture scene. (Note: I hope that one day we can find something better than the bridge metaphor. Turkey is Turkey. Plus, Europe and Asia are really one continent.)

Looking south at the bridge connecting Asia to Europe over the Bosporus, which connects the Black Sea at the north with the Sea of Marmara at the south.

There are actually three land masses to get acquainted with on your arrival. They are divided by water and joined by bridges and ferries. If you do not have a built in natural magnetic compassing device and your sense of direction is totally lost, if the sun is not shining and clouds obscure the stars in the night sky, you may be constantly confused in the first days of which land mass you are actually on and which body of water you actually crossed. (Note: Actually I don't think Mom ever quite understood where we were, but she was too busy exploring to waste time on that.) Do a bit of orientation to help yourself from getting lost or taking a bus in the wrong direction.

On the European side, the Golden Horn separates the historic peninsula from the rest of the city. Here the many bridges you can walk, ride, and soon subway across are shorter than the rather long bridges looming across to Asia. You could also take a ferry across the Bosphorus. I decided to walk under one of those continent-spanning bridge. Fear not, there are no mean trolls and you'll pass the drivers of many cars who are busy biding time polishing and waiting for their employers to take a ride.

My visit was mostly spent in the section of the city called Sarıyer. This section of town is less frequented by tourists which makes it all the more Turkish, Istanbulish, and lovely. Transportationwise this is where various 25 buses flow to and from. Learn them. Thanks to the evolution of bus routes, the letters on these buses sometimes, but not always, explain the part of the city where the bus in headed. So a 25T will get you from Sarıyer to Taksim, the happening part of the European side. Here in Sariyer I find a conflict in writing, questioning if I should exploit this beauty or keep it secret or sacred as to not spoil it. I am going to try and walk this thin line with the inclination that sharing is caring in hopes that other tourists will walk the same path with inclinations of respect and reserve.

Geography of Sarıyer: cloudy, cool, nestled in the northern parts of the city along the Bosphorus.

Mural graphic in Sarıyer: bright and sunny, displaying pride and respect along a city street.

My arrival and departure voyages were 24/30 hours from/to Northwest Indiana, because I was doing this frugally and had many stops and transfers along the way. My costs were $9-10 each way commuting to Ohare, $771 flying (of which $295 taxes- Ataturk airport being an expensive airport to fly into) and about $3-4 commuter fares each way in Istanbul to get to my destination. I spent 9 days in Sariyer, various side trips to other parts of the city, and a mini whirlwind tour of inland Turkey to total my two week vacation, $1150 dollars round trip. All this under the motto of a James Taylor Sun on the Moon (reminding me of the Turkish flag where I see an eclipse and other things) lyric:

Your time may be money, but your money won't buy time.

My next post will be a write up of the meat of my journey, what I did, what I saw, what I heard, what I felt, what I ate, etc. whats.

For now this end my prelude.

Pancake Day 2011: Dinner

2011-03-08T23:50:00.001+02:00

"You can't be like pancakes, all exciting at first, but by the end you're absolutely sick of them."
-Mitch Hedberg

I'm dragging myself across the finish line here, and I only had three pancake meals. No further ado, here's kaiserschmarn.

3 eggs to 1 cup milk to 1 cup flour. I'm making a double batch.

Separate the whites and yolks. Take 3 yolks and beat them continuously with about a cup of blood orange juice and 2/3 of a cup of sugar in a double boiler for... as long as it takes. 15 minutes?

While your manservant mixes the rest of the yolks, flour, milk, some salt, and some sugar, beat the egg whites into soft peaks. Then fold everything back together.

Pour a big, fluffy pillow's worth of the batter into a well-buttered frying pan over medium heat.

Force your manservant to enjoy them decadently covered with blood orange creme sauce.

Pancake Day 2011: Lunch

2011-03-08T17:48:00.000+02:00

As I finished brunch, I noticed that it was about time for lunch. With a bag of apples in the fridge that weren't getting any riper, it was time for german apple pancake. I made the same thing last year, but my appetite has grown since then.

I had already mixed the batter by the time I remembered to photograph the ingredients.

As a slight change from last year's apple pancake, I had to use a loaf pan instead of my usual small fry pan since that was a victim of the morning's Great Kitchen Sanitation Battle.

Then of course, my professor texts me that he needs me on campus urgently. The next dolmuş leaves in eight minutes and my pancake finishes in ten. Hmmm... I just had to hope that the latent heat would finish the bake or a microwave could do it.

Almost, but not quite.

Lessons learned from this experiment. German apple pancakes need wide flat pans or longer cook times. Also, microwaves have no place in baking except for melting butter.

I'm still in a pancake stupor at the moment. In a few hours I'll return home though and make some more pancakes with Zac of Grand Beer Tour fame.

Pancake Day 2011: Brunch

2011-03-08T16:48:00.000+02:00

While there is no more healthy way of starting your day than pancakes, an early morning appointment with the Istanbul Police for my residence permit precluded the start of festivities. Since Tuesday is also my traditional workout day, when I had the chance to finally sit down and make brunch, I made the eggiest pancake I know. But first, I had to clean the kitchen of whatever my roommates had done since I cleaned yesterday morning.

Before... Sweet Sassy Molassy

After

My base pancake recipe is 2 eggs to 1 cup liquid to 1 cup flour. Kaygana is 1 egg to 1 tablespoon flour. It barely qualifies as a pancake. On to the pictures.

I started Pancake Day with 24 eggs, my goal is to finish with 12 or less.

I've talked about kaygana before and how you can add nearly any vegetable. I'm sitting on a kilo of squash so I diced some up with my gigantic knife and sauteed it with a diced onion.

Everything scrambled or diced before the cooking begins.

The veggies were added to the eggs, flour, salt, and pepper, and half the mixture was added back into the pan.

One finished kaygana and one just poured in the pan. If the batter is a little runny, feel free to corral it with a spatula.

Brunch complete. Next on the menu, more pancakes.

Prelude to Pancake Day 2011

2011-03-08T02:03:00.000+02:00

Tomorrow brings one of the most important days of the Nick Krabbenhoeft religious calendar, Pancake Day. Other parts of the world know it as Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras, Carnival, Fat Tuesday, et cetera et cetera. Last year I celebrated by making a different kind of pancake for every meal: breakfast, lunch, second lunch, and dinner. Since bureaucracy might get in the way of my routine tomorrow, I'm still rejiggng my menu. Right now I'm thinking brunch, lunch, dinner, supper, and late night snack. I'll be cooking some of the pancakes as last year, but I've learned some new recipes too.

To prepare for the caloric onslaught, I dropped by Abbas in Bebek, a waffle spot recommended by a close friend. Though a fiend for breakfast food, I'm not the expert on Istanbul waffles as you might suppose because Istanbul waffles are something the Cookie Monster would definitely label a "sometimes food."

The choose-your-own-adventure counter

Here's the deal. The guy behind the counter cooks up a waffle for you, fresh. When it's done you can ask for as many spreads you want, choosing from almond, hazlenut, nutella, pistachio, caramel, milk chocolate, white chocolate, bitter chocolate, and raspberry. Two is enough though. Then the guy slices up half a banana for you and lets you go to town on the toppings. Here we have pineapple, sour cherries, candied chestnuts, strawberries, kiwis, maraschino reds and greens, candied orange peels, candied green figs, and candied hodge podge. Once again you can choose as much as you want, but a waffle is only so big.

Can't... hold... camera... still...

While you walk away, munching on your fruit-flavored sugar-injection wrapped in dough, you might notice your vision blurring or fingers trembling. Don't worry, that's normal. In terms of sugar coma quality though, I think you can do better than Abbas. Other places have bigger waffles and even more toppings. The last time I picked up a waffle in Bebek, I passed out within in an hour after the sugar rush.

(Note: While looking at the Wikipedia article about Shrove Tuesday, I discovered that Pączki Day is the Thursday before Fat Tuesday. This day has been added as the official preparatory holiday for Pancake Day 2012, especially since there's a good chance I'll be celebrating it in Michigan where I should find some Polacks.)

What in the world seagulls?

2011-03-07T21:00:00.000+02:00

Long walk along the Bosphorus today, a body of water which I admit is absolutely gorgeous but also full of jellyfish, and I end up passing a flock of flying seagulls. Passing because the wind is so strong that they could hover in mid air.

Video of the birds after the break.

Sorry for the buffeting wind in the mike, but hopefully that winds bring some promised snow tomorrow.

Market Day: 16 February 2011

2011-02-28T14:09:00.001+02:00

I have experienced approximately 3 hours of snow this year, all through a window. Still, it had been a bit chilly in Sarıyer recently, so off to the market for memories of warmer climes!

I have a small ambition to own a sweet minibus like the one on the right at some point in my life.

What better fruit to help you imagine a day on the beach than blood oranges?

Blood oranges are regular oranges with high doses of anthocyanin, the antioxidant that also turns red carrots, red apples, and red grapes red. They're also a very appropriate fruit to munch on while reading Twilight, which I may or may not be doing.

Speaking of red apples, I tossed some in to celebrate buying a springform pan by baking cake. Note, this is one of my flimsiest excuses for doing anything in some time and if it continues this can only end in me being ludicrously jolly by June.

I'm still working on finding a good recipe, so if you know one, send it my way.

New Camera!

2011-02-27T09:03:00.001+02:00

For the past two years, I've used a Canon SD790 IS. That was until I took this picture during my research trip to Alanya.

Ironically, the inscription details Sultan Ala-eddin Keykubad's conquest of Alanya, and at that moment the Alanya dust bit into the gears of my beloved camera.

The screws must be made of unobtainium because I destroyed a screwdriver just getting this far.

Despite attempts to clean out the insides, the Canon was dead. As a serious art historian, blogger, and forgetful person, a new camera was in order, something at least 5 times better. Luckily Canon had come out with something 5.063 times better. Lucky me!

So, my new Canon SD4000 IS. It has most of the same gimmicks as my last camera.

It takes pictures of food like my last camera.

But it does them better, 5.063 times better.

Super Bowl XLV

2011-02-23T11:08:00.000+02:00

Turkey loves football, but not the kind with hail mary's, gridirons, blitz, or the Chicago Bears. Because of this, the Bears stumbled through their season again while I wasn't watching. However, Green Bay fanatic Ashley had figured out how to watch nearly-real-time football through the magic of the Internet. So for the Bears-Packers NFC Division Championship, it was on.

Ashley's dedication to the Packers went as far as making celebratory Jello. My dedication to Jello had me eat more than half.

The Bears played bravely. Sadly, the Bears are like toddlers. Even at their best, toddlers can only imitate adults. Despite fourth quarter heroics, the third string quarterback couldn't win the game, and the Packers won. I'm not a bitter sports fan though. As long as the Packers won the Super Bowl, I could think the Bears were second best.

The American Consulate, although to me it looks more like a Fortress of American Dominion.

Ashley, diehard Packers fan, deserved something better than a 17-inch video with 3 minutes of lag. We couldn't find a bar to catch the game, but an ex-pat tipped us off to something far better, the Marine House at the US Consulate in Istinye, Istanbul.

Cornhole! Zac and I won.

I couldn't come home for break, but holy cow did the Consulate ever feel like it. After entering the fortress of solitude, we were assaulted by 11 hours of chili, cornhole, American beer, pool, homemade pizza, a 70-inch TV, football, US Marines, and a Packers win. Despite the political shenanigans that make me whince whenever I check the news, Super Bowl night at the Marine House reminded me that America rocks. Full stop.

Thanks so much to Sgt. Blake who gave us football refuge and fed us pizza.

This all went down while my camera lay on my operating table, so thanks goes to Zac for the pictures.

Where is my snow?

2011-01-29T01:42:00.000+02:00

February has nearly snuck in, and Istanbul still refuses to be blanketed in snow. I'm applying to UT Austin and University of Michigan right now; and to tell the truth, I'd prefer Ann Arbor if only for the guaranteed snow drifts. Then Mom drops these pictures on me.

If I could, I'd be wandering those snowy dunes right now, and then relaxing in my Snuggie with a mug of hot chocolate. As it is, I'm stuck in the malaise of a foggy Istanbul winter. So, to fight this indifference I'm going to spend some money and buy a Turkish instrument. The question is which one.

First, there's the kemençe, a three string spike fiddle from the Black Sea region. Yes, I abandoned the violin after 4 years of lessons in high school, but this is a fiddle you can use while walking or hosting strange regional televisions shows. Sadly, it has only a 15 note range.

Then there's the cura, a six-stringed, strummed instrument. It's small, portable, sounds a tiny bit like a banjo, but I already have a small, portable, fun instrument in my ukulele.

And finally the bağlama, the seven string bigger brother of the cura. That of course makes it harder to lug back to the states, but it also increases my chances of growing a powerful mustache.

I've already asked my friends on Facebook, which garnered the following response.

Person A: Bence cura almalisin... (I think you should buy a cura....)

Person B: Kemençe! (Kemençe!)

With such productive input, I'm nowhere closer to picking an instrument. Any thoughts?

Market Day: 26 January 2011

2011-01-26T11:52:00.000+02:00

January has been strangely busy for me. Travelling down to Alanya for research, taking a brutal Arabic final, watching the NFC Championship Game one in the morning, hosting friends of a friend as they visit Istanbul. Surprisingly, today is the my first time at the market in a month, which meant I was out of all of my staples. By the time I finished picking up my much needed eggs, cheese, sausage, onions, bulgur, walnuts, and raisins, I had nearly exhausted my weekly grocery budget. I did manage to sneak in a couple kilos of squash though. And this time, I'm eating every ounce before it goes moldy in my fridege.

I don't have any pictures from the market today, a consequence of my research trip to Alanya including a unexplained catastrophic camera breakdown. There is a story though.

My daily breakfasts consists of a hodgepodge of bulgur, walnuts, raisins, sugar/rosehip jam/molasses and tahini, salt, and yogurt. It's a concoction deemed disgusting by every Turk I know. It's also gotten me a reputation at one of the dried fruit and nut stand as "That Guy Who Buys a Kilo of Raisins and a Kilo of Walnuts Twice a Month." That stand is my sole supply of dried fruit and nuts because it's the first one I went to and one of the guys running it spends his time between customers bellowing "Malatya Pazarı!"

Anyway month ago they shortchanged me a couple lira. I remember thinking that I was missing a couple lira at the end of my shopping, but it was nothing to lose sleep over. Lo and behold, as they're shoveling my walnuts onto the scale today, someone remembers, "Hey, we owe you two lira." I'm understandably confused. , but they continue to explain. Apparently, they tried calling me back immediately after I left the stand, but I didn't hear them. One of the guys even sent his son to run after me. A month later, they still remember they're debt and cut the two lira off my price today. Thanks guys.

Christmas!

2011-01-08T11:52:00.000+02:00

Christmas!

Allow me to blow your mind.

Jingle Bells is not a Christmas song.

We sing about snow, sleighs, bells, and going to Grandma's house, but does we ever mention Christmas? Nope. This is important to me because I don't live in a land of Christmas. There's no Christmas vacation, no Christmas snow, no Christmas shopping season. But! There's a slowly growing New Year's gift-giving holiday, and that's where Jingle Bells comes into the whole spiel. At least once a day in December, I wasguaranteed to hear a commercial for New Year's that uses Jingle Bells. That alone lifted my spirits with holiday cheer.

I don't want to be beholden to marketers though. There are enough Americans in the graduate program to start our own colony, or at least a Secret Santa program. My Santa, having heard about the tragic loss of my chef knife to airport security, left this bundle of joy on my desk.

If you haven't gotten a card yet, I haven't finished writing it. Happy January!

On the other hand, my santee got some stuff that I didn't photograph. Whoops...

Oh, and there's my second annual international Secret Santa with strangers from the INTERNET. This year my Santee, a Dane again, didn't leave a lot of stalkable traces on the Internet so I decided to give him a small culinary slice of Turkey with a cheesy poster of an Orientalist painting. At the last second I decided to add a jar of honey, which proceeded to leak through its seal. The Dane tells me the damage wasn't too bad though.

By the way, the Koç postman is a really easygoing guy. He doesn't even lift an eyebrow when I burst in with an armful of letters headed to different continents. I've been to other post offices where they couldn't even find the stamps.

From England, same as last year again, came some cool stuff. First, a fountain pen that's both cheaper and classier than both of my current pens. :D

Second, a snow globe that didn't survive the journey. :( Luckily my souvenir LEGO streetsweeper from Germany could help out with the mess. He's also featured in the great cherry haul of 2010.

Third, LEGO streetsweeper finally has a buddy to hang out with in the form of LEGO streetfood chef! Maybe I should pick up LEGO wheelbarrow man so they can all party together when I'm not in the office.

Market Day: 1 December 2010

2010-12-01T08:38:00.000+02:00

I'm not going since I still have to work through kilos of potatoes, onions, cheese, and yufka. I did go last week though and bought something entirely inedible but necessary.

The reason for having my knife sharpened? More than just being dull, we were on the verge of the most important knife holiday in the year. With six Americans facing a crowd of fifteen Thanksgiving-neophyte, there was a lot of pressure to produce a true Thanksgiving. I'm told most American don't celebrate the holiday with Cornucopia Pizza, so I trudged around four or five neighborhoods trying to find a whole turkey without success. The next day, my friend reserved one for us by phone in ten minutes.

Another leg on this turkey's circuit. (Source: Joan MacDonald, who also wrote more in depth coverage of our Thanksgiving.)

I dedicated the night of Thanksgiving to bussing around Istanbul and finally picking up our seven kilo beast. As I stood in line at the register, the two men in front of me stared agog at the bird cradled in my arms. "How much?" "Seven kilo." "No, how much?" they asked and stabbed their fingers at the price tag. After they satisfied themselves in knowing that I was spending enough for a big meal with friends, they gave me double thumbs up. Sometimes I really love the nosy questions you run into here.

As for cooking a turkey, I think we all have some lessons to learn on that, but the Americans will continue on and host an even better dinner next year. Who knows where I'll be, but Cornucopia Pizza will definitely be there too.

Carving the turkey. (Source: Joan MacDonald)

And for those of you who haven't seen this on Facebook, a short time-lapse of our Thanksgiving.

America, the Beautiful

2010-11-16T16:05:00.000+02:00

After two months, I still haven't talked about all of the amazing people that made my trip to America so wonderful. And looking back on my pictures, I realize that I should be less gunshy when it comes to taking them. Too many of these memories will have to live in my imagination.

Thank you Mom for proving that not only does Indiana have a beautiful beach, it has beautiful sunrises too.

Thanks for goofing around with me about exercise.

Thanks for showing off your hut/tent face/installation art before the October storms came.

Thank you Gwendolyn for showing me around Champaign Urbana and giving me reason to go to school there.

Thanks for this picture, even if these caterpillars are pests.

Thank you Liz for taking me along on that scavenger hunt and coming along to bowl with CJ and Holly.

Thank you Grandma for letting me borrow your sweet station wagon to drive to Chicago, Holland, Chesterton, Peoria, Champaign, Indianapolis, Cincinnati, and Louisville.

The Free Basket installation at 100 Acres Park, one of the best reasons to visit Indianapolis. Next time I visit, I'm starting a pick-up game.

Thank you Sharon for letting me cut down your invasive trees and letting me crash on your recliner to Craig Ferguson.

My delicious tomato salad made from four kinds of tomatoes from Grandma's, Mom's, and Sharon's gardens with a little basil, salt, and pepper.

I stayed in six different houses, slept in I-don't-know-how-many-different-beds, churned through thousands of miles of Midwestern landscape, and loved it all. Thank you Heinz, Lucy, Jan, Steve, Mike, Grandma, Grandpa, Nancy, Kevin, Nikki, Chris, Pelle, Addie, Sharon, Gwendolyn, Jim, Elizabeth, CJ, and Holly. This post would be many times longer if I had pictures of all fun I had during my visit.

Market Days: November (First Half)

2010-11-15T16:00:00.000+02:00

Every Wednesday a kilometer of food materializes in Sarıyer. However unlikely, I thought the stall owners only worked once a week. I'll never know the true depth of my blithe ignorance.

Sarıyer is only one stop for the iterant capitalists. The idiosyncratic outfits collide in different parts of the city everyday in groups as small as five or six. Istanbul's largest weekly market takes place Saturdays in a two-story Beşiktaş parking garage.

I'm still not tired of these colorful, edible cascades.

Food sellers cram under grimey concrete rafters flooded with compact flourescent light on the first floor. The bedding, clothing, jewelry, plastic, and etc etc etc sellers take the top deck. While Sarıyer's market has it's strange architectural moments of sand-filled buckets suspended from awnings floating in the middle of the road and ghoulish howls anytime the wind picks up, Beşiktaş's market is clausterphobic cacophany. Manic weaving and dodging replace meandering from stall to stall. I'm content with my smaller, calmer market.

I can't buy everything in Sarıyer though. Last week I stopped by the the Spice Market in Eminönü
for whole nutmeg, half a kilo of red pepper, vanilla beans, and two hundred grams of cinnamon. And on a field trip through Thrace two weeks ago, I picked up buffalo yogurt. Holy cow it's creamy! And I'm still expanding my weekly shopping in Sarıyer. Last week I finally visited the woman who sells rosehip marmelade out of two metal vats, and I finally bought butter from my usual cheese stop.

Butter from Trabzon, buffalo yogurt, and rosehip marmelade turn into pancakes, toast, börek, porridge, mantı... Sometimes I start making breakfast and don't leave the kitchen until after lunch.

Added together with some private cooking lessons, my kitchen is seeing some delicious food this month.

Out with the Old (New Turkish Lira), In with the New (Turkish Lira)

2010-11-10T14:29:00.000+02:00

November 10, 9:05 AM

A somber moment to stop and remember the life of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk on the anniversary of his death.

Instead, I was demoing the sophmore release from Vampire Weekend. It took me until noon to remember Atatürk when I finally swapped the bag of old coins sitting on my bookshelf.

Turkish Lira (useful) on top, New Turkish Lira (useless) on bottom

In 1988, 1 dollar equaled 1,300 lira. In 2004, 1 dollar equaled 1,350,000 lira. In 2005, 1 dollar equaled 1.29 new lira. Obviously Turkey suffered from some pretty extreme inflation in the nineties. It was extreme enough that the government lopped six zeros off of the end of the currency once they had inflation under control. Part of lopping off six zeros included issuing new currency called the New Turkish Lira. By 2009, the new currency was stable enough to just call it Turkish Lira again.

On New Year's Day 2010, all New Turkish Lira was old and out-of-date, including much of my big cup of change. Eleven months later I've finally exchanged the useless money. I lost more than 85 kuruş in the process though. The old coins featured Heroic Bust Atatürk, Military Börk Wearing Atatürk, Calm Statesman Atatürk, and Visionary President Atatürk. Now I'm left with only Heroic Bust Atatürk.

Atatürk was a lot of things to a lot of people. While I can never do justice to the wide range of opinions about his politics, I can at least say he accomplished a staggering amount of change in Turkey and did it all while staying fashionable. I forgot to remember the minute of his death, and now it will be a little harder to remember his dynamism.

Also, we don't have 1 kuruş pieces anymore, so when the man at the bank saw mine, he picked them up and threw them in the trash. This upset me.

Happy (Turkish) Republic Day!

2010-10-31T21:49:00.000+02:00

True story, I spent the Fourth of July at a Chinese restaurant on the south coast of Turkey this year. Independence Day without cheap beer, blasting Mellencamp, or crying bald eagles is a far cry from my greatest culinary/literary/patriotic achievement of all time. Could I at least pump out some enthusiasm for 29 Ekim AKA October 29th AKA Cumhüriyet Bayramı AKA Republic Day. No, I was too busy getting Turkish cultural lessons in the form of soap operas.

Google in all its inhumane non-evilness never forgets to celebrate a holiday with doodles. I figured I might take a tour of a few Turkish Google Doodles.

2008

Turkish Oil Wrestling - Two hulking, well-oiled men trying to lift each other over their shoulder or pin each other to the ground. Shoving an arm through an opponent's pants to gain leverage is an accepted strategy. The annual Kırkpınar games have been held since 1362, and visiting is an excellent excuse to chow down on Edirne style liver and to revisit the Selimiye.

Mevlana Rumi's 800th Birthday - I'm skeptical about religious rites performed in concert halls for packed audiences 5 nights a week. However, the whirling dervishes have been following the traditions of Mevlana Rumi for eight centuries.

2009

Mimar Sinan's Birthday (or Google's best guess at it) - The head architect of imperial Ottoman architectural design firm during the height of its imperial bravado in the sixteenth century, Sinan is responsible for three of my favorite buildings, the Rüstempaşa Cami, the Süleymaniye, and the Selimiye. Well, I think the Süleymaniye is a favorite, but reconstruction work started before I first came to Istanbul and hasn't ended yet.

Sabiha Gökçen's Birthday - Among his many admirable achievements, Atatürk founded the Turkish state, wrote a primer on geometry, and adopted seven daughters. I can't comment on his parenting abilities, but he did give his daughters as many opportunities as he could. Sabiha became the world's first female combat pilot by the age of 23. In her honor, Istanbul named its second airport and the world's largest earthquake proof building after her.

2010

Istanbul European Cultural Capital 2010 - We had such high hopes that this project would spark the development of some much need cultural infrastructure. That hasn't turned out to be the case. Even major projects like the completion of Süleymaniye's restoration weren't finished. At least the scaffolding is down inside the dome of Hagia Sophia.

Cahit Arf's Birthday - Seminal figure in the development of modern Turkish mathematics, Cahit Arf defined something now called the Arf function, which does very mathematic things.For instance, it can evaluate if the Seifer surface of a knot is 0 or 1 thus finding if it's pass-equivalent to the knot or to the unknot. Look at the [o]s in Google. Also, he's on the back of the 10 lira note.

Turkish Children's Day 2010 - As a kid, I complained about my parents got extra holidays dedicated to them. All that work I put into finding presents for Mother's Day and Father's Day, and they never even wished me a happy Kid's Day. Grandma told me that every other day of the year we celebrated Kid's Day, but now I have a counterpoint. Turkey, which claims to have invented Children's Day in 1927 (although the Swiss declared one in 1925, but pish posh), give kids a free day on April 23rd every year.

Cumhüriyet Bayram - Google's made a couple of these, but I'll only use this year's because it makes me so mad. I love this picture of Atatürk. It's something like an Iwo Jima flag-raising in its patriotism. With the passage of anti-smoking laws though, Atatürk has had to kick the habit too. No longer will my moon-pie reenactment seem as accurate.

I Count Bus Transit as Quality Vacation Time

2010-10-25T16:06:00.001+03:00

In 2008 I saw my first pictures of the Ulu Camii of Divriği, a mindblowingly audacious piece of 13th century architecture located in middle-of-nowhere Anatolia. Of course when the Genoese shut down the Bosphorus Straits after the Venetians helped the Fourth Crusade take Constantinople from the Byzantines in 1204, trade had to take the overland route through rocky, sometimes desolate Anatolia. Back then the middle-of-nowhere was somewhere, a branch of the Silk Road trade routes. That's a decidedly academic mouthful. This post is all about me and the bus torture I put myself through for a few personal encounters with buildings this August.

Saturday, August 21, 10:30 PM
Got on an overnight bus to Kayseri.

Sunday, August 22, 8:00 AM
Arrived in Kayseri to find the tourist office closed because tourists only come during the workweek. Used an Internet Cafe to get my bearing then begin epic walking tours. For Seljukid history, Kayseri is best known for the Huand Hatun complex sponsored by the wife/possible poisoner of Alaeddin Kaykubad, the apex of the Seljuk Sultanate. When political marriages get messy, they don't end in divorce. They end in murder.

Her buildings are fantastic architectural filigree though. If you focus on the geometric relief carvings, you'll notice they're mostly based on pentagons and decagons.

*Math Warning* Triangles, squares, and hexagons are the only regular polygons which can fill a plane. In order to use pentagons in a plane filling tesselation, you need to include at least two other non-regular polygons in the tesselation set. Artisans in the Persian-Turkic-Arabic world seemed to have figured that out in the 12th century. Even cooler, they employed these patterns to form semicrystalline tilings of the plane nearly 800 years before those were mathematically described by Roger Penrose. A semicrystalline tiling is one where if you translate the tiling in any direction, it doesn't overlay perfectly with the original tiling. Just another one of those brain melting moments where a finite set can generate something symetric yet forever changing. A better explanation of the math is on wikipedia, and Peter Liu's article describing the semicrystalline patterns on buildings is here. *Math Over*

I'd love to extend the art historical side of this idea.

Kayseri also claims Turkey's only regional variety of mantı, the little pinched squares of dough enveloping spiced ground beef, AKA "Turkish tortellini" on most tourist menus. Apparently Kayseri mantı means cooking in diluted tomato sauce. Interesting, but not mind-blowing like Bodrum Mantısı and their deep fried mantı of deliciousness (and free dessert.)

Look at the froth on this ayran though. Wow!

Monday, August 23, 7:00 AM
Woke up after sunrise. Since it was Ramadan, that means the fast had begun, so to be polite I ate breakfast in a back alley before jumping on the shuttle to the bus station. Enjoyed a three hour bus ride to Sivas.

11:30 AM
Arrived in Sivas and bought round trip tickets to Divriği. Watched my 35kg bag get hoisted into a roof rack and held in place by rope and spare wheel rims.

2:30 PM
Divriği! Life goal in site.

If Huand Hatun's buildings exemplified delicate intricate, carving practices, Divriği's Ulu Camii employs bombastic, exhuberance. Anything that looks big and juts from the wall is probably the perfect size to squash your head. Every element has gambled against gravity for centuries. Some vaults have already collapsed and have been repaired, but gravity hid a more nefarious plan. The entire building is slipping down a hillside. Istanbul Technical University is proposing extensive/wacky conservation works, so I had to see this building before they started building a greenhouse around it.

My vacations also include vacations from shaving.

This will remain absolutely gorgeous until this ceiling finally caves in and buries a tourist.

When I buy a house, I'm putting a copy of this fountain in the living room.

There's also a castle, and according to the sign, walking in it is dangerous. Of course I walked in it.

5:00 PM
Took bus from Divriği to Sivas. Decide to get my life in order in Istanbul rather than touring Sivas the next day.

8:30 PM
Took bus from Sivas to Istanbul.

Tuesday, August 24, 2:00 PM
Arrived in Istanbul, forgot my cell phone on my seat, shuttle around to bigger bus stations to find it, shuttle, shuttle, shuttle, shuttle. Home!

In conclusion, I look just as great with a scarf as I do with a suit.

PS. One of the Americans in my program, Joan, also ran on the 17th. If you want to see what I look like with a piece of paper safety pinned to my chest, check this out.

Intercontinental Athlete

2010-10-21T18:02:00.001+03:00

If you've put your mind towards running in a marathon, I don't think I can dissuade you from it. All I can do is ask you, please, use nipple protection. Vaseline, band-aids, whichever. Your body will thank you for it.

As luck would have it, I forgot mine on the morning of the 17th when I ran from Asian Istanbul, across the Bosphorus, across the Golden Horn, and then, in the most roundabout of ways, to the Hippodrome in front of Sultanahmet Camii. I did remember a camera though and toured Istanbul in one of the most arduously, peaceful ways possible.

0901 The gun clicks and we begin racing across the Bosphorus Bridge, right into pedestrian Turks taking advantage of the one day a year foot traffic is allowed on the bridge.

0950 Bemused fishermen watch us silly runners waste energy on a relaxing Sunday morning. My camera decided the Suleymaniye was not important enough to warrant its focus.

1002 The cast-iron Bulgarian Orthodox Church on the Golden Horn, the 1870s version of prefab housing. I'm not kidding that this whole building is a few gigantic pieces of iron riveted together.

1035 The deceptively tortuous hill up Atatürk Caddesi through Valens Aqueduct. This isn't even quite the 15km mark and so far I've passed the Dolmabahçe Palace, İstanbul Modern, Galata Bridge, the Spice Market, the Ecumenical Patriarch of the Orthodox Church, Eyüp, Zeyrek Cami, and now this. It's the most dense tour I've ever done.

1037 I latch onto the tail of this white-glove wearing, absurdly high cadence runner. The aid stations became more frequent at this point, about every 2.5 km. He would stop to pick up water while I plodded ahead. About 1.25 km later, he would overtake me, and I was chasing him again. Also around this point, we ran out of historic landmarks, and the race became long. Also, we still weren't halfway finished.

1153 Strip malls on one side, boats waiting to go through the Bosphorus on the other. My nipples hurt, my ankles hurt, my left calf hurts, and my right shin hurts. I've been out of juice on my MP3 player for at least an hour. Worst of all, I'm about to abandon Mr. White Gloves because I'm trying to finish within four and I'm ten minutes off pace.

1237 I know from the shooting pain in my foot that one of my big toes bones is fractured or broken, and now from the tears welling up every time I pass a cheering section, I know I've emotionally broken down as well. "Allé! Allé!" "Hop! Hop!" "Arriba!" "Koş!" "Deutschland!" I couldn't believe the amount of support people gave or how much it buoyed me.

1255 Gülhane Park on a Sunday morning with only 7 people, unbelievable. Two crazed German fans jogging alongside and three or four people I've been chasing all race long. I pull out my last spurt of energy.

1303 This might be entirely my imagination, but as I continue sprinting past broken down runners a wave of cheering builds up alongside me. 100 meters left, I'm faltering, but the cheers grow. "They're urging you on," I think. Then orange T-shirt guy from Gülhane Park blows past me. Oof.

I keep pushing and pass the line at 4:01:18. I can blame the weight of the camera for keeping from my four hour mark, but I still accomplished two other goals: finishing and never slowing down into a walk.

Finally, an apology. I thought I had sufficiently warned anyone from waiting at the finish line for me. After losing my last two months of training to vacation, injury, and sickness, I didn't know when or if I'd finish. However, Zac and Joan stood like troopers at the finish line for 2 hours waiting for me to come. Sadly they arrived at 1310, by which time I'd eaten my victory banana and begun the long hobble to working public transportation.

Market Day: 6 October 2010

2010-10-06T15:32:00.002+03:00

Vacations are viciously destructive forces apparently. Since a three day blitz across Anatolia and a three week tangle with the Midwest, I've lost all my good habits about practicing Turkish, training for a marathon, eating healthy, waking up before the sun, brushing my teeth, etc., and blogging. There's much to tell, but I'm climbing back on the wagon with baby steps.

I finally made it to the Wednesday market. Finally I can preface my morning runs with bowls of porridge the size of Rhode Island again. While the Sarıyer market certainly is not the visual explosion of deliciousness like the Alanya market in the summer, being at any market makes me bubble.

Hooray for the environment!

I only have one problem with the markets. Every trip adds ten plastic bags to my already substantial collection. For example, my walnuts are poured into a bagged on the scale, tied up, and bagged again before they enter my backpack. I'm sorry mother nature. Luckily, I've found a tomato guy that bags them in folded-up newspapers this week. If the tomatoes are halfway decent, I'm sticking with him from now on.

And just for fun, there's a bird of an indefinite type trying to roost in my kitchen. Pigeon? Dove? New species? As I put away this week's haul and listened to my roommate decry the evils of organized religion again, this creepy, bloody eye peeked over the shelf of plastic bags. Using effecient, effective arm-waving and yelling, we chased him outside, but every time I opened the window above the sink, he hopped back to sash. He's even perched on the faucet occasionally. I'm open to suggestions on how to make this bird scram.

In other news, the program's American population doubled this year. I've been inundating them with advice and whatnot about being an expat in Turkey. Apparently one of them blogs, so hopefully I'll be posting that link here soon.

A Belated, Rising Farewell

2010-08-29T10:21:00.000+03:00

From my bedroom window in Alanya I could stare eastward into the crags of Rough Cilicia were it not for the garden wall. Nature's alarm clock took another form. Despite the many neighboring, roaming roosters, they were useless since they think any time is a good time to crow.

Instead, I relied on the daily rising cacophony of cicadas. Turkish has two names for the cyclically suicidal bugs, the more official Ağustos böceği (August insect) and the much better cır cır böceği (jirh jirh bug). In the tradition of one of my favorite TV shows, Sunrise Earth, I present The Cicada Symphony Orchestra Warms Up.

Cir cir cir cir cir cir cir....

Good Morning, Goodbye

2010-08-28T08:18:00.000+03:00

This blog has a tag dedicated to pictures of sunrises and sunsets which hasn't been used in a year and a half. No longer I say.

University housing decided to shift my apartment in the middle of July and on the whole it's been fantastic even if only for my new sunrise facing window. Give me a boring evening and I'll move every piece of furniture in my room to take full advantage of the best alarm clock in the world.

The new apartment also has flat floors and a less sketchy bathroom, both of which are definite pluses. Two last tiny slivers of greatness. From my sunrise window I can see this to the right...

...and this to the left.

They're tiny, but I never would have expected an apartment with a view of the Bosphorus and the Black Sea as a poor graduate student.

Wandering Around the Castle

2010-08-20T12:50:00.000+03:00

Limestone is an awful lot like old people. At one point in time both were filled with calcium. However, whereas old people break bones when they lose calcium, karstic limestone decalcified limestone rips your skin apart. Along with soldering burns, cactus needles, ukulele blisters, fig pollen rashes, steam burns, chair jams, and knife cuts, limestone injuries are one of the many reasons my hands will be happy to leave Alanya. The rest of me is entirely sad to end my internship today.

Two months filled with fresh food, exercise, and work have kept me happily occupied every moment. So much so that some things slipped past my grasp. Goethe über die Liebe remains to be read. I have twenty addressed postcards waiting to be filled. And that whole thesis thing...

I plan to have 20,000 words next May about how Seljuks painted their buildings and how we can present those paintings today. That amount requires substantial research, more than reading mildewed books and yellowed articles. To find some examples of painting I sacrificed my hands to the limestone and climbed around the castle itself.

Over the past week I've concentrated on the stretch of walls cascading from the Ehmedek to the Kızıl Kule. They're a rather intimidating set of defenses. A set of solid, thick wall anchored by square towers loom tallest. Most likely these date from the Roman period of Alanya with repairs by everyone who came after them. The thin curtain walls in front are far more devious though. The material for those probably came from the big pit, a foss, in front. A 3-4 meter wall gains a lot sitting on the edge of a 1-2 meter pit. The intimidation factor grows when plaster covers the stones and forms a gleaming white monolith.

I could appreciate the sheer obstacle posed by these defenses while clamboring around and looking for fragments of paint. Even without soldiers slinging stones, pouring oil, or shooting arrows at me, it's exhausting, shirt-destroying work. And then you come across the gems that make it worth it.

A slim brush stroke of red! Is it a leaf? A feather? Not enough of the figure remains for me to say, but I had to stare in awe for a few moments at this survivor of the centuries.

Checkboards! These mark the base of the figure painted on this crenelation. Of course, this figure was worn away as well.

I love these. Rubble masonry looks a little cheap next to walls with squared stones so big they had to have been carried by cyclopes. As any interior decorator might say, that's nothing that a bit of paint won't fix. In this case, it's painted outlines of nicer masonry.

Finally, someone has to have discovered this before. If they're planning on publishing it, I hope I'm not stepping on their toes. This fresco is too spectacular not to post, nearly the entire rear half of a lion...y animal. I can make out vicious claws, the legs, the belly, and part of the neck. Absolutely worth my hands threatening to mutiny and find a more caring owner.

If you ever visit Alanya on a package tour, the guides will schlep you up the castle road to the İçkale and let you roam around for thirty minutes or so. If you're a bit more adventurous, maybe you'll schlep yourself to the Ehmedek or the Red Tower. All of those are fantastic buildings well worth a visit, but there's so much more to the castle. You can stroll in the forests underneath the İçkale, hike to a Byzantine monastery, or explore the kilometers of walls. Don't follow the signs. Find something interesting in the distance, and walk there.

On Iftar and Other Sounds

2010-08-15T20:36:00.008+03:00

Sound defined my summer in Alanya: the constant chirp of cicadas, the hours of ukulele strumming, the nightly podcast sessions. This week introduced some new audio though.

My kilometers of running have broke my 5th pair of headphones since last November. Ridiculous. This time instead of blowing another twenty lira, I picked up a soldering iron and a new jack to repair them for fifteen lira. Ugly but serviceable, I have a soundtrack for hundreds of kilometers more.

I made a video about hiking to the monastery on Cilvarda Burnu last weekend, but YouTube can't handle the audio for some reason. Therefore, if you'd like to see me walking dramatically and eating more dramatically, you'll have to be my Facebook friend and watch it here.

Much bigger than all of my techno goofing, the holy month of Ramazan (Ramadan everywhere outside of Turkey) began on Tuesday. During Ramazan, all Muslims should fast from sunrise until sunset and completely abstain from other vices, sex, tobacco, etc. Of course, you'll find a wide variety of reactions to these rules. Those who aren't Muslim ignore them. Some Muslims only abstain from alcohol, despite Islam banning alcohol yearlong. Others find little cheats such as abusing the allowance for travellers to replenish their strength. And quite a few adhere to rules absolutely. Out of respect for them, most people try not to eat in front of them. For instance, I scarf my lunch in the back room since half of my coworkers are fasting.

Muslims break fast at the iftar, a traditional daily feast began the moment the imam can't tell the difference between a white thread and a black thread. To let everyone know that they can eat, well that process has turned my dinners from a daily enjoyment to a nightly crescendo.

In the middle of the call to prayer, you hear a small pop as the firework launches, then BANG! FOOD TIME! I love Ramazan.

Market Day: 13 August 2010

2010-08-14T20:32:00.000+03:00

This week Market Day takes place less at the market than in my local environment. Only 7 days remain for me in Alanya which has begun many countdowns. I only have 4 more running battles with the castle rock route. I have one more day I can spend at the beach. I don't have any time for more tailor visits. And I have a refridgerator full of exhuberant overspending at previous markets. As a result, this week's market netted me a melon and some early red plums.

Last week I did buy this exotic thing though. Garbled words and garbled ears meant I only understood this is a ****** nar, some sort of pomegranate. Despite the exciting colors and bumps, it was disgusting, so I'll leave it at that.

Health nuts of the last century might remember this next food as an all natural replacement for chocolate and candy. Those must have been some crazy years because I'd never make that trade. However, carobs are hanging off half the trees alopng my weekly hikes right now. I don't pass up free hiking food. Grab one from a tree, crack it in half, pack it in your cheek, and let the sweetness seep for the next 15 minutes.

Then spit, spit for all your worth because your mouth is full of gross, mealy, indigestible bits. And repeat.

Oh, and while they're not exotic whatsoever, the grape vines in the arbor are producing fruit right now. Late for work and breakfastless? Grab a bunch of grapes.

And finally, my nemesis fruit. I still haven't come to grips that I'm surrounded by cactus. The air feels five degrees hotter when I see them. But, they make fruit too! Fruit delicious enough to be worth the sweat their parents steal.

Not so fast. The fruit are covered by needles that need only the slightest brush to embed themselves. And you can't get pick them out. They just move from one finger to another, forever annoying you like a horrible glitter accident.

An arms race is needed. They bring thousands of needles, you bring one big knife.

Ha.

Note: Somehow, my lips are still full of needles.

Who Looks Good in a Suit?

2010-08-09T19:57:00.001+03:00

I'm pretty sure this guy does.

Generally, I don't look good in store-bough suits. Something about me being moderately athletic and the average suit apparently being made for a hippopotamus. While I'm in Alanya, I jumped on an opportunity I should have taken when I was here the first time.

Cheap custom tailoring!

Here's the tailor lining the front of my new pants which also feature a tiny loop to hold my belt buckle in place. Wow. And the collar of my shirt is button-down, but the buttons attach underneath. Double Wow. And my tailors spoke better German than English, harking back to the days of Alanya as a Deutsch Turist Wunderland.

And here I get so excited about my new amazing shirt and suit that I go into serious fashion modeling mode.

Broadcast Yourself Part 2

2010-08-08T23:19:00.002+03:00

Youtube is glitching on Part 1, but in the meantime I recorded this.

Edit (17 August 2010) In retrospect, this video is truly horrible. I don't like to delete things, but for your own sake, don't watch it.

Beyond the flat singing, you might notice that I'm looking ace. That's a story for tomorrow.

Breakfast! Lazy, Bountiful Breakfast!

2010-08-01T19:00:00.000+03:00

Every week, late Friday afternoon, you can find a trail of sweat chasing a hunched over man with three bags in each on the road to Alanya castle.

Every week, late Friday afternoon, you can find me trading a quick joke about what I didn't buy at the market with a waiter on the road to Alanya castle.

Every week, late Friday afternoon, you can find tourists confused by the very, very sweaty man shouting victory at the flag tower on the road to Alanya castle.

I have my silly habits.

What do you do with so much food? Well, you eat it; rather, you feast on it during the Saturday morning super-stretch breakfast buffet. Last Saturday was backwards day apparently because I ended up eating breakfast at 8pm.

That's a breakfast of homemade bread, white cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, kaymak, black olives, green olives, tomato-onion salad, cactus fruit, peaches, red plums, yellow plums, hazlenut spread, honey, kaygana, homemade ayran, and spearmint tea. And that's a timespan of 30 minutes.

I want to highlight two things. First, my favorite lazy egg recipe, kaygana.

1. Whisk two eggs with two tablespoons of flour.

2. Once combined, add diced vegetables (I like green onions and whatever else is at hand), diced or shredded cheese, herbs/spices, and salt, if your cheese isn't salty already.

3. Heat up some oil in a pan over a medium-low flame.

4. Pour in half the mixture.

5. Flip when golden-brown and cook the other side.

For this breakfast I used shredded zucchini, which needs to be drained before being added to the batter. Luckily, salted zucchini juice makes an excellent base for homemade ayran. Directions for that are as follows. Combine equal amounts of liquid and yogurt. Whisk. Drink.

More importantly though, last Saturday I discovered the richest sandwich I think I will ever eat. Kaymak ve bal is a fairly typical Turkish breakfast food. It translates as clotted cream made by gently simmering milk for several hours and honey eaten on bread, so you can imagine this heavy on the fat and sugar.

Kaymak is 60% fat by weight. Honey is 80% sugar by weight.

I figured this needed some protein, so I pulled out the hazlenut spread which has only two ingredients, hazlenuts and sugar. Sweet sassy molassy, hazlenut spread, kaymak, and honey is some sort of flavor gift from heaven. It's smooth, creamy, sweet, a little salty. You can't pick out one flavor from the other.

It's not a gift from nutrition heaven though. Hazlenut spread is 50% fat by weight, 10% protein. Oh well, that's why I jog and why you should jog too.

Market Day: 23 July 2010

2010-07-31T18:25:00.001+03:00

Hey, isn't that last week?

Yes.

If you've read my descriptions of the Sarıyer Market, you know it's pretty simple. One long road with a loop at the end and two very short branches at the beginning of the loop. If you visit every vendor, you'd never have to retrace your steps. In comparison the Alanya market sprawls over all the sidewalk space within a city block.

The market is right off of the main drag Atatürk Bulvarı. Anybody should be able to point you in the right direction if you ask for the pazar. The local high school is another good landmark.

You can find the major produce sellers in the big, green sections. Many of these vendors buy from larger wholesale markets or sell produce directly from their commercial farms, so here you'll find all of the produce that isn't grown in Alanya. It isn't a hard and fast rule, but the smaller seasonal produce is in the southern green section, and the staples like onions and potatoes and comically oversized fruit like 5 kilo watermelons are in the northern green section. By the way, don't care your melon bags in the same hand as your peach bags. They always fight, and the peaches always lose.

The purple sections are a mixed bag of produce, dried foods,spice, and other sellers. For instance, my favorite honey seller in the world sits right in the middle of the lower purple section. However, the dried fruit and nut sellers don't compare to the Malatya Pazar stall in Sarıyer. I should do an in depth post on them when I return to Istanbul.

The peynircis park their truck along the blue strip on the right. Peynirci translates as cheese-selller, so obviously this source for all of your cheese... and seven grades of olives. Note that they don't sell other dairy products like kaymak or cream. Stop here last if you'll be here a while.

Alanya's local produce market dwarfs Sarıyer's; understandable since Sarıyer is in the city. The orange hug has tens of tiny stalls from local farmers. This is where to find your spearmint, your yellow plums, your strings of hot peppers. Much more variety, though my Turkish is in now way up to understanding some of the sellers' accents.

Anyway, some pictures from the hip since I didn't want to disturb people shopping too much.

In front: The star fruit of the moment, peaches and nectarines from Bursa.
Behind: The star vegetable of the moment, tomatoes from the field.

Normally prices are by the kilo. For potatoes, prices are by the 5 kilos, which means lots of pierogies for me.

The local farmer section, I can pick out avocadoes, okra, apples, onions, green peppers, green hot peppers, potatoes, ada tea, spearmint tea, and homemade sour pomegranate syrup in these three stalls.

This week, I bought 2 kilos of cucumbers for a lira. A price like 15 cents a pound for cukes doesn't justify buying 4.5 pounds of them. Sometimes I wonder who's in charge of my brain at the market.

Nothing to fear though. When it became clear that I couldn't eat 2 kilos of cucumbers worth of cucumber salad, I remembered one of my favorite summer street food from Istanbul. For a lira, a salatalıkçı (cucumber seller) peels a cuke, slice its crosswise down its lengths and pours, not sprinkles, salt over it. Every morning on my walk to work, I eat two, with the peel since it's delicious.

Ask Nick: Alanya's Weather

2010-07-24T15:20:00.000+03:00

Q: Nick, is it hot in Alanya?
A: Yes!

Q: Really? How hot?
A: There are three levels of heat.

Hot: Cactuses grow outside of my house. Cactuses.
Really Hot: I have to change my sweat-soaked shirt after playing ukulele for half-an-hour, a notoriously energetic task. This happens at 11 AM or 11 PM.
Ridiculous: We reached this new level two or three weeks ago. I'm as wet while taking a shower as I am after drying off, though now it's sweat instead of water.

Q: Good Lord, how do you survive?

A: Observe the survival strategies.

Enjoy the shade of rustling grape vines on the çardak instead of the sweltering house.
Freeze tiny fruits like cherries and yellow plums, and enjoy the tiny arctic blasts of juice.
Wear hammer pants, better known as şalwars, my relaxation uniform.
Become a bookworm.

That's a book on the construction and appreciation of poetry. Do I strike you as a poet or consumer of poetry? No. But I should strike you as a half-North-German, half-somewhere-in-Poland putting centuries of the cold weather genetics into an oven.

One last strategy, inspired by the University of Florida. Electrolytes! Salt goes with everything like scrambled eggs, cucumbers, and my new favorite, watermelon.

Market Day: 9 July 2010

2010-07-12T11:35:00.000+03:00

I bought too much fruit again, 5 kilos of beautiful stone fruit in fact. It looks like my late afternoons will be accompanied by delicious bowls like this.

Sarı erikler, napolyon kırazlar, and kuş kırazlar (maybe)

I don't mind making these kinds of mistakes, but there are some unintended consequences. This time I bought so much fruit I couldn't put it all at the top of my backpack. After lugging everything to the castle, the yellow plums (sarı erikler) and the Napoleon cherries (Napolyon kırazlar) and smashed into the red plums (can erikler.) Blood was everywhere. Somberly, I reviewed the half-kilo of casualties.

Then I gave them a proper Viking burial over low heat with a couple tablespoons of sugar and some cinnamon, because when life gives you murdered plums, make plum sauce for pancakes.

Finally, a shot of my lazy pretentious dinners, courtesy of the market.

More kuş kırazlar, yeşil zeytinler (green olives,) köy penir (village cheese,) sarı erikler, and bal (honey) from the market, complimented by some dereotuylu salatalık salatası (dill and cucumber salad,) homemade bread, and kaşar peynir from the supermarket.

Good Morning!

2010-07-02T10:12:00.000+03:00

It's time to walk to work, but first a questionable shower.

It turns out my skin DOES feel soft, smooth, and supple, and I DO appreciate it. Thanks for letting me decide, cautious advertising. Cleansed and refreshed, I begin my descent to work at 15 meters per minute. At this point the weather is about Comfortably Hot, the kind where you're happy to do anything outside in order to enjoy that toasty buzz.

The office is under the red roof below the octagon.

If you can't spot my office, you can scroll down a little bit for a close-up. I have to climb down fifteen minutes, during which time the temperature increases to Too Hot. The sun has cooked up its first sheen of sweat on my skin and will add another every time I go outside until I return home.

I get free entrance into the octagon (Kızıl Kule) which translates into the best break space I've ever had.

Once I'm home of course, it's time for a second questionable shower. The soap typically delivers on its possibilities again.

2010-06-26T15:25:00.000+03:00

The View!

Have you ever been out walking and realized that everything you see makes your grin widen? I've spent the past 40 hours and counting by revelling in that sensation. My two month internship at the Alanya preservation board officially began today, which will feature in future posts. More important at the moment is reliving the Alanya institutions I've missed so much in the past year-and-a-half. Here's my checklist in progress:

Breakfast at Yamaç Kafe
Ice Cream from Çamlıca - Lemon + Peach = Delicious!
Cookies from Çıtırım - No tiny pound cakes yet; they do have wireless though.
Beer from Red Tower Brewert - My first Martzen made the bus from Istanbul worth it.
Lunch at Mini Mutfak - Another great-tasting dish I'd never had before.
Pizza at Flipper Pizza
Late Night in Tophane
Swimming to the Buoys at Damlataş Beach
Hiking or Swimming to the Monastery
Running down and back up the Castle Rock - First attempt failed
Having Clothing Made at Starschneiderei

I have to move quickly because I'm sure there's more to discover.

One 250 meter-high obstacle remains though. A professor has graciously let me stay in their house for the summer. Since it is the single most amazing house I have ever been in, I never want to leave. It's probably impolite to post an in-depth walking tour of someone else's house, so you'll have to make do with a brief listing of the amenities. A fully stocked kitchen, a deck with a sunrise view (above,) a grave, a table for writing (below,) an iterant lizard in the closet, and a guest bedroom. Should you need to escape it all in the next month or two, let me know.

Literary Nook!

Good Times on the Internet in Turkey

2010-06-23T07:52:00.001+03:00

Starting June 1, the Turkish government went on the offensive against Google again and started blocking things. This whole spat started in 2007 when Greek and Turkish nationalists started flaming each other via Youtube. The Greeks eventually uploaded videos insulting the founder of modern Turkey, Atatürk, which goes against Article 301 in the constitution, "Don't insult Turkishness." The government made the obvious move of blocking Youtube, so I'll say the Greeks won.

The block wasn't hard to avoid though. By changing your DNS server, you could avoid the Turkish servers which ran the IP blacklist. This would have been helpful when I was here in 2008 when Blogger was blocked because some blogs were illegally streaming soccer matches. Eventually I learned about the DNS swtich though, and I've had fairly worry-free Internet since then, until this month.

All of a sudden, Google services didn't work. Translate, yok. Maps, yok. Picasa, yok. Docs, yok. Youtube, yok. I don't understand why the DNS workaround doesn't work anymore, but it must have something to do with the huge swath of Google services being blocked. From what I've seen online, there are two explanations for the uptick. First, Turkey expanded the range of its block in order clamp down on Youtube more effectively, either because of the original decision or because of the amount of bandwidth used by Turkish Youtube users. Second, the Turkish government wants a cut of sweet Google ad revenue, a fight familiar between all Internet companies and terrestrial governments.

Here are the most relevant discussions of all of this:
http://www.google.com/support/forum/p/Google+Docs/thread?tid=23d6143a842bb5ea&hl=en
http://www.fastcompany.com/1658095/turkey-google-censorship-youtube-search-politics-international-affairs
http://www.nationalturk.com/en/breaking-news-first-youtube-now-google-being-banned-in-turkey-425724574
http://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=1403963

Regardless of the true reason, I need to change some of my infrastructure in order to post this summer. I'll be changing all media providers, so Flickr instead of Picasa, Vimeo instead of Youtube, and Bing Maps instead of Google Maps. It's a little bizarre how reliant I've become on Google for Internet creativity. Of course, if you know a workaround, I'll be glad to pick up my addiction again.

Finally, in case things break down more completely, here's a great blog to read about another expat in Istanbul. http://www.harikaszaza.blogspot.com/

Museum of the History of Science and Technology of Islam

2010-06-20T05:08:00.001+03:00

Who himself and others know

Here is rightly guided;

Orient and Occident

Are no more divided.

-Goethe, East-West Divan

Two years ago, the Turkish Government pushed through the creation of a museum in Gülhane Park in the Topkapı Palace grounds dedicated to exhibiting the academic contributions of Muslim scholars between the 8th and 16th century. Also, it was dedicated to making sure visitors knew Muslim scholars were totally way more awesome than contemporary and even future European counterparts. But if you can filter out the horribly blatant political messages in the exhibits, this museum is a bit odd for other reasons.

First off, the entrance ticket cost 5TL, which is extremely cheap for a museum in Sultanahmet, let alone Istanbul. The ticket grants entrance to galleries featuring about 140 models or replicas of scientific instruments used by Muslim scholars. Yep, not a single geegaw is real.

Fake astrolabs

The world's largest fake astrolab

Tiny fake model buildings that functioned as astronomy instruments when full sized.

The World's Largest Observatory Model (original built in Jaipur)

Archimedes screws lifting fake water to fake fields.

Model trebuchets perfect for war games

Industrial sized rosewater still, which I think is a fake name for an industrial sized boutique liquor still.

I wanted to fiddle with all of these displays and see how they worked. This point brings to the biggest failing of the museum. You can't fiddle with anything! Science is all about curiousity. To place all these fantastic models behind glass cases does a disservice to all visitors. Children might be inspired by contact with the tools of the trade. Adults would love to turn cranks to lift water, fire off rounds from a trebuchet, or take home their own batch of freshly distilled "liquid."

As much as I love the collection, I'd only recommend this for people familiar with the mechanics of a trebuchet or for those interested in AK Party propoganda efforts. I came with expectations of a history museum and left with dashed dreams of a hands-on historical science museum.

Note: I used Flickr for this post, but I'm not entirely happy with them either. I'd appreciate any recommendations for a good imagehost.

Spring Sprang Out the Window, It's Summertime

2010-06-19T01:30:00.000+03:00

June 19th and finally this semester has run its course. Well, it was mostly finished three days ago, and I've been celebrating since, despite a few quibbling assignments. I spent Thursday depleting my weekly allowance on a long shopping spree for summer projects.

New ink for my fountain pen, a new book in German to read, a new journal for a letter project, and a mysterious zeppelin themed journal. This summer promises quite a bit, even without the two months I'll spend in Alanya.

The Day After Market Day: Apricots!

2010-05-27T14:17:00.000+03:00

The scary looking trees in the courtyard outside of my office have finally bloomed and turned into beautiful shade monsters. They gobble up sunlight before it reflects off of my letters and blinds me. Thank you shade monsters.

More importantly, I wanted to continue an ongoing family tradition of "How much food can you stuff in your mouth?" My brother Chris has won the grape and marshmallow competition, but since we've never tried apricots I can claim that championship.

But first, some apricot facts. Turkey is the world's leading producer of apricots with a yearly crop topping 390,000 tons. Most packages of dried apricots in America feature "Product of Turkey" somewhere on the label. When it comes to dried apricots, there are generally two types. The more familiar orange version has been treated with sulfur-dioxide to retain its color and prevent rotting, while the more hippy version has only been treated with sunlight. Some people might prefer the orange version, but I stick to the sun-dried when I need an apricot fix in the winter.

Back to making a fool of myself though.

Von apricot! Ah ah ah!

Two apricots! Ah ah ah!

Three apricots! Ah ah ah!

That fourth apricot was one too many. I'm nervous Chris won't have to try very hard to take this victory from me.

Market Day: 26 May 2010

2010-05-26T16:47:00.001+03:00

Guess what's in season!

Cherries!

Along with a whole host of other delicious pitted fruit like apricots, peaches, nectarines, green plums... It goes on and on. It's all further proof that May is definitely the best month of the year. Rhubarb is just going out of season. The best fruits are just coming into it.

Just don't look at that massive pile of reading I have to do by Friday.

Sorry that I haven't updated in a while Grandma. The weather has made everything gorgeous though, so there's a lot to write about. Get well soon!

Market Day: 18 March 2010

2010-03-20T12:57:00.000+02:00

First, a confession or two.

I bought some hothouse strawberries to add some variety to my daily spinach salad, but I didn't have any picture worthy subjects to post today. Sorry. Even more apologetically, I have to admit that I have a maid. Indulge me for a second while I explain what this has to do with the market this week.

I've heard quite a few preconceptions of Turkey being a dirty country. That's entirely true. In an Anatolian winter, the coal dust will have you coughing black. Heavy rains cover the road to campus with mud sometimes. My roommates admonish me when I drink tap water because there's no telling how many dead horses lie at the bottom of the reservoir.

The last sentence points out an important difference. Yes, out in public Turkey can be dirty, but as a people Turks are generally very clean. Slippers swap in for shoes at the door. Turks are so sensitive to the taste of water that when I was in Berlin last week my friend refused to buy bottled water at the store. In he paid twelve times more to get Turkish spring water from the vending machine, and then only begrudgingly because it wasn't his preferred brand.

I've had to adapt to these ideas. Shoes come off at the door. I drink bottled water, sometimes. Andmy roommates and I combine our meager student stipends to hire a maid to clean everything twice a month. Doesn't sound like a big step, but I've associated cleaning ladies with bourgeois, upper-class pretensions for far too long. The Turkish Muse elaborates this more succinctly than I could.

Despite the effort, I'm still kind of a sloppy guy. A mess devours my room a little bit everyday until the day before the cleaning lady visits, when I rush around to hide my slovenly lifestyle. The mess grows a little slower every week though. I'm also more conscious of my dirty habits like licking my finger tips after a meal. (It will take a long time to relinquish that though.)

Returning to the market, I saw two Americans on the dolmuş (This is another cultural institution that deserves its own post.) while hauling my groceries back to the apartment. By appearances they could have been Turks, Europeans, Americans, anything really, but then one girl did something no Turk or European would ever do. She sat on the floor, a floor covered in the muddy shoeprints of the hundreds of people that had ridden the minibus. The instant her jeans hit that floor every woman on the bus glared at her in shocked confusion. In my imagination, the mothers shielded the eyes of their children, maybe in reality too.

The moral of the story is "If you visit Nick in Turkey and do something as ridiculously unhygienic as sit on the floor of a dolmuş, he might be forced to kick you out of the country in shame."

Market Day: 4 March 2010

2010-03-07T12:49:00.000+02:00

Typically, housewives cram the market street while dragging two-wheeled grocery dollies behind them. I saw a uniquely masculine interpretation of shopping this week when thickset man nearly bowled me over with a wheelbarrow full of cheese and vegetables. I'll have my camera ready to catch him plowing through next time.

More excitingly, I stumbled across kırmızı havuç (red carrots) this week. Last week, a kilo of under-ripe kanlı portakal (blood oranges) had disappointed me with their near complete lack of gory red flesh. My red carrots are a deep, tongue-staining violet-scarlet though. Side dishes like yoğurtlu havuç (carrots with yogurt) taste the same but look fantastic. Another plus side, they're not apocryphal propaganda for the Dutch royal family.

Red carrot compared to red pepper

These are the People in my Neighborhood

2010-02-25T18:13:00.023+02:00

I've said before that I may technically live in Istanbul, but it's an hour bus ride to downtown. I actually live in a strange assortment of apartment complexes and farms that overlook the Black Sea and Bosphorus Straits. That means that nature's green surrounds my jogs rather than city's grey.

Since jogging isn't very popular in Turkey, especially on the ridiculously steep hill of my valley, I don't get to give friendly nods to friendly strangers. I've started greeting the animals instead.

Who owns this cow? I've figured out where the stables, pens, and coops for every other animal are, but I have no clue whither the cows come. Sometimes I find them chewing cud here; sometimes I find idling on the highway. The one time I accidentally scared them has convinced me not to follow them home though.

Krep Günü için Akıtma!

2010-02-16T21:03:00.001+02:00

As long as I'm reaching out nationalistically, I might as well take on Turkish pancakes. My roommate's girlfriend recently told me about yeast risen pancakes called akıtma that can be eaten with tomato paste and white cheese. That's perfect for me because I have some leftover tomato sauce from making pizza, a little bit of white cheese, and a huge hunger for dinner. You can't have sweet things for every meal of the day, even if they are delicious pancakes.

There are a million recipes for akıtma on the Internet though, with a lot of them starting off with "1 pound flour" or "2 liters of water." Even with my appetite, it takes some serious downsizing to make the final serving size 1 Nick. My akıtma are turning out a little too gluteny and I can't spread out the batter. Because these aren't perfect, I'm not providing a recipe until I experiment and get the right ratios.

Whatever the recipe, akıtma taste like bread, so add anything you like to eat with warm bread and roll them up. You can also melt cheese on top once you've flipped it over.

Flapjacks for Pancake Day!

2010-02-16T16:56:00.000+02:00

I'd be remiss to ignore American-style pancakes today. I've never been a huge fan since I grew up with my blintzes, crepes, my dad's, and other thin pancakes. Flapjacks are a good hearty meal though. For lunch, I adapt my steif recipe and chow down on some American levity.

Recipe

2 eggs
1 mounded cup flour
1/2 cup yogurt
1/2 cup water
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar
2 tsp baking soda

Whisk everything together until smooth.
Pour 1/8-1/4 cup of batter into a oiled pan on medium heat.
Do not swirl.
When bubbles in the middle of the pancake no longer close after popping, flip.
Cook for 15-30 seconds.
Repeat.

Makes about 10 pancakes best served in a large stack with melted butter and syrup. Enjoyed by 1 person with a Nick-sized appetite for pancakes.

Steiff mit Knopf im Ohr für Pfannküchen Tag!

2010-02-16T11:53:00.021+02:00

After my morning run I cooked up a batch of pancakes inspired by my father. While I grew up, his only regular cooking duty was Sunday morning breakfast for which he had four options: apple pancake, pancakes, french toast, and waffles. Ideally, each batter would be a bit different, but really they were all different presentations of the same thing. This led us to nickname his not-quite-crepe, not-quite-flapjack, rather dense pancakes as "Steif mit Knopf im Ohr" after the motto of Germany's famous not-so-cuddly teddy bears. Still, I love those pancakes.

Recipe

2 eggs
1/2 yogurt
1/2 cup wate
1 cup flour
1 tsp oil
salt

Mix everything together until it's smooth.
Pour 1/8 to 1/4 of a cup into a heated, oiled pan over medium to medium-low heat.
Quickly swirl the pan around to spread out the batter.
Flip when the top of the pancake has darkened.
Let it cook for 15-30 seconds and then remove.
Repeat.

Makes for 7-8 pancakes topped with sugar or fruits in syrup and rolled, about enough for 1 Nick.

Apple Pancakes for Pancake Day!

2010-02-16T11:37:00.004+02:00

Today is the last day before the beginning of Lent. Faced with 40 days of austerity, many cultures try to stuff themselves with entertainment and food until the final moments. There's Mardi Gras. There's Carnival. There's what the English, Canadians, New Zealanders and Austrailians of the world do Shrove Tuesday, also known as Pancake Day. Since pancakes are one of my favorite foods, I'm joining in on the celebrations this year. I'll try to devour as many kinds of pancakes as I can, starting with oven-baked apple pancake for breakfast.

Recipe

1 apple
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tbsp sugar

2 eggs
1 cup flour
1 cup milk or 1/3 cup yogurt mixed with 2/3 cup water
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt
butter

The night before, cut the apple into sixths or quarters then slice each section very thinly.
Mix the slices with sugar and cinnamon in a bowl and place in the refridgerator to let the flavors marry.

The next morning preheat the oven to 375 F.
Whisk the eggs, flour, milk, sugar, and salt together.
Butter the inside of an 8 inch oven safe frying pan, then pour in the apple slices.
Cover the apples with the batter and place the tiny chunks of butter on top.
Bake in the oven for 35-40 minutes.

Serves 1 Nick, especially when drenched in syrup.

Early Morning Fog

2010-02-15T23:18:00.001+02:00

Nearly every morning I wake up to a bank of fog in my valley, just passing through.

It's majestic. It's beautiful. It makes me worry that the ground disappeared while I was sleeping.

This Isn't Actual Content

2010-02-10T16:20:00.001+02:00

I've been busy cleaning up my digital life over the past few months. First of all, I launched two new blogs. Since the one about making eggs for breakfast still needs a lot of work, I won't link to it yet. My blog about heritage management in Turkey is up and running though. I don't post nearly as often there, and I haven't quite found my voice. If you're interested in haphazard editorials about heritage issues though, check out In Anatolia. In the future, I'll figure out a way to check for updates from all of these sites at once.

The second bit of news relates to the new header image. Blogger in Draft has added some interesting features in the last few months. One of these is static pages. There are a few on this site right now like the collection of header images. Alright, there are only three at this point, but expect more now that I have a place to archive them. Also, it's now possible to geotag blog posts. Sure it's a bit gimmicky, but now it's easy to see where my topic is.

Finally, the inspiration for this header came from the silver dirhem struck by Sultan Kaykhusraw II.

Market Day!

2010-02-10T15:22:00.000+02:00

It's Wednesday! Time to go to the market!

I talked about the Spice Bazaar before. I still love going there and being part of an institution like that, but it's an hour or two away. I can't do that every week. For the first few months I lived here I went to the supermarket up the hill from my apartment, but in December one of my students turned me onto the weekly market. Now it's a weekly ritual.

There's a bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables all year round.

The prices are half compared to the grocery store.

I can buy nearly everything I'd buy in the grocery store. (I haven't found yeast yet.)

I can buy foods I never see in the store like bulk dried figs, walnuts, and chestnuts.

I can buy things I'd never want to buy like sweater vests.

And I can buy things I never thought existed like water cooler cozies.

At the end of a pleasant walk through the market I come back laden with more food than I fit in the fridge. The fruits and nuts end up in a big pile on my desk for snacking.

Alchemy at IU

2010-02-07T12:21:00.011+02:00

I finally finished reading The Alchemy of Paint by Spike Bucklow today. It's strange to think that being able to choose from a rainbow of iPod nanos or to change the season's fashionable blue from cerulean to indigo was only made possible by chemistry discoveries in the early 1800s. Before then, making celestial blue paint required a trade network to Afghanistan and using imperial crimson involved the Byzantine emperors permission and thousands of carnivorous snails.

In his book, Bucklow covers some of the practical issues faced by medieval painters that I mentioned above; however, he spends most of his time analyzing the metaphysical theories that defined their usage and creation. Some of the explanations were very grounded and easy to follow, but then Bucklow begins to cherrypick myths and stories that might support his ideas without justifying his choices. I had other complaints like his writing style being too reminiscent of my own, clumsy. And at times, the etylmologies seem plucked from the air rather than a source. There is a lot to mull over in The Alchemy of Paint, but it's hard to distinguish the author's thoughts from his subjects'.

Where Bucklow directly attempts to break down a chemical reaction within the purview of the Theory of Four Elements though, the book is fantastic. It also reminded me of a piece of research I did back in Bloomington.

In the summer of 2008, I took a course on Romanesque art from Holly Silvers which featured the most creative final I've ever taken. She handed us a map of the IU campus rendered in a manner reminiscent of Hereford's Mappa Mundi. Every few weeks we'd receive a clue to find a building and several questions about the building. If she's still running this course, I hope I'm not ruining the exam by writing about an answer.

The Hereford Mappa Mundi with my current approximate location.

One of the clues led to the unimaginatively named Chemistry Building. Built in the 1930s after the first two Chemistry buildings suffered from large fires, it's a nondescript building. If you look closer though, there is a shield under every window with a pair of elements' symbols. They may appear to be out of order, but really it's a systematic scramble of a set of every four elements. I've never figured out why they did it the way they did.

The IU Chemistry Building (Image Source: zenit0218)

A better view of the south face of the building. The shields are between the windows. (Image Source: zachintheagora)

On the sides of the buildings, the shields feature the symbols used by alchemists prior to the 19th century. Also there are shields with the astrological/alchemical symbols for the 7 planets/base metals in the lead came windows above every door. This is what Bucklow's book reminded me of. I love the idea to include both the ancient and modern chemical systems as a reminder that even something as objective as chemistry as spiritual and philosophic origins.

The east side of the building where some of the alchemy shields are found. (Image Source: AlephNought)

Not all of the alchemy series still exists though. During the post war boom university boom, IU built a giant, cheap, ugly addition to the Chemistry Building and destroyed half of the shields on the southern side in the process. The architects in charge of the second expansion in the 1980s had to cover up the 1960s eyesore as well as creating more room for the department. They did it by cladding the exterior of both additions in limestone that matched the 1930s construction. This included extending the shield series. Each new face of the building hosted a new series; the elements discovered since the 1930s, the most important elements in organic chemistry and the two forms of carbon rings, the noble gases, the variables for energy, and two chemical compounds which I'll get back to. Additionally, they preserved the original exterior masonry for the sections of the building that would be covered in the new expansion, so those shields form the alchemy series are still visible.

Satellite view of the Chemistry Building with each major addition outlined. Red: 1930s, Blue: 1960s, Yellow: 1980s

Energy variables in shields on the western side of the 1980s expansion. (Image Source: msarahan

Shields with the noble gas series on the southeastern tower. (Image Source: Freddy)

The two compounds? They were F₂ and SnF₂. F₂ was first isolated by IU Professor Frank C. Mathers during the First World War. The US government sponsored his research as a response to the deadly effectiveness of German mustard gas. It was hoped that F₂ would be even more effective since flourine is such a volatile element. Well, it turns out that it wasn't a good weapon; however, twenty years later US weapons scientists would turn to it once again. While fluorine gas might not kill people efficiently, it did isolate uranium from ore efficiently. Thanks to Professor Mathers' discovery, the Manhattan Project succeeded. Campus tour guides only ever tell the story of the other compound though. I'm not sure if this is due to ignorance or discomfort with being associated to nuclear weapons.

Stannous fluoride, SnF₂, is slightly less controversial. Every tour of IU includes a mention that the chemistry department is the birthplace of Crest. What made the original recipe work was stannous fluoride. But in addition to strengthening enamel and fighting gingivitis, it turns out SnF₂ also discolors some people's teeth. Crest switched to flouristat, sodium monofluorophospate, in 1981 as a result. For heritage minded folks like myself though, it's possible to buy stannous fluoride Crest again. In the last few years it has been reintroduced as Crest Pro-Health with additional compounds to reduce the chance of discoloration.

Whew! That post covered a lot of ground, so I'll give a quick summary in case it was too much. The Alchemy of Paint by Spike Bucklow is an alright book. I'd only recommend it if you want to know about medieval metaphysics in art. The IU Chemistry Building has one of the best ornamentation programs on campus. You should check it out if you're ever nearby. IU is part of the reason nuclear weapons were invented, but also part of the reason you can kill gingivitis with beautiful lapis lazuli-colored paste.

And one last thing I'd like to add as a postscript. Writing this up has made me realize how important it is too not only store data, but to keep track of it. My notes from the IU archives are in a red notebook 5000 miles away from here, and I deleted the photos I took of the chemistry building. It was only thanks to Flickr and Picasa that this post has pictures at all.

Undergraduate Art History Thesis: Errata

2010-02-03T14:22:00.001+02:00

I wouldn't be in school if I knew everything. I just wish that being in grad school meant I knew more, but every day I find the chinks in my knowledge are actually giant windows. Oh well, there is a lot of cool stuff when you look through the window.

For example, this semester I assisted Prof. Scott Redford with a class on the Seljuks. His amazing lectures when I took his class at the McGhee Center were a major reason I wrote about Alanya's fortress. (As a side note, I suggest any Koç students reading this should try to take a class from him.) Since Prof. Redford's specialty is Seljuk landscape and defensive architecture, he is a key source on my knowledge about Alanya. This semester I found out a few of my assumptions about the town are probably wrong.

The problem stems from the masonry used constructing most of the walls. Unlike in classical archaeology where the building culture can be reasonably identified by virtue of masonry styles like cyclopean, rusticated, and lesbian, during the Crusades everyone was building by slapping mortar between whatever rock they had. On top of that, castles changed hands between the Byzantines, Armenians, Seljuks, Crusaders, and Arabs, who would frequently make additions. That means that without textual evidence it can be very difficult to attribute a construction. (As a side note, if anyone has a suggestion for a good book on masonry styles, I would appreciate it.)

As I mentioned earlier, the Byzantines had rebuilt large parts of Alanya Castle in the 11th and 12th centuries. The city was a link in a fortified chain of ports that stretched to Antioch. Each port provided a secure harbor to replenish fresh water supplies for military ships that could only carry a few days worth.

Again, the rubble masonry makes it difficult to say how much of Alanya's present walls were built by the Byzantines. One clue though might be the seemingly redundant wall between the First and Second Sectors. According to Prof. Redford, the wall that runs along the coast now, might have been constructed by the Seljuks in response to erosion moving the shore away from the original Byzantine wall. This is the genesis of the First Sector.

It might even be the case that the Byzantines built the İçkale. If that is true, I have to change my thoughts on how Sultan Kayqubad reshaped the city. It appears that the city the Seljuks conquered already had a framework. They could only change the contents.

When I originally wrote my thesis I over-enthusiastically promoted the Seljuks to the position of prime mover. Instead, I should have recognized something they already had. The Seljuks were one in a long line of empires in Anatolia interacting with the peninsula's past.

Despite this setback, I can still modify my original thesis, and I still plan on finishing it on this blog. It might be easier to subscribe to an RSS feed than to check back manually though.

Snow at Koç

2010-02-01T12:27:00.001+02:00

There is a surprising paucity of photos from the Koç campus online. It's just like the surprising lack of photos about my life in İstanbul as of late. When my semester finally finished on Monday, I took a stroll around campus.

Technically, Koç University is in Istanbul. In reality, we're in the middle of a forest ten kilometers from the heart of the city.

There's a tea house at the top of this clock tower. The tea is a bit expensive, but the view is worth it.

I love snow in part because it gives me an excuse to break out my Astrakhan wool hat.

These belvederes are fantastic in the summer and unbearably cold after November.

To finish, a couple glances of my apartment building and its crazy Seussian landscape as rendered by the snowfall.

New Year's Eve 2010

2010-01-30T11:58:00.004+02:00

(Very Late) Happy New Year!

The Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas episodes of NBC sitcoms were the most I celebrated American holidays this semester. Luckily, New Year's is an international event, so I actually remembered to do something, albeit rather haphazardly. I took Sarah along for the ride since she was in Istanbul visiting me for two weeks. What follows are some of the highlights and pitfalls of the night.

Sorry Sarah, this is the only non-blurry picture of you from that night.

Highlight: Bodrum Mantı

A friend of mine introduced me to this restaurant in Arnavutköy which is now on my shortlist of Istanbul's best. I think their menu has three or four pages, but all I ever need is the list of mantı dishes. Mantı are a bit like tortellini but filled with minced meat and topped with garlicky yogurt and peppery oil. I've tried and loved the whole-wheat pasta, spinach and cheese filling, and chicken filling, all lightly fried. Once the mantı are finished, the waiter swaps the old plate for one bearing a scoop of ice cream nestled between slices of waffle cone and covered in cherry syrup. It only costs ten dollars. Sarah became so smitten, she demanded a second visit before we left.

Pitfall: Nothing is Open

I didn't make reservations at the restaurant which turned out to be a little risky since nearly nothing in Arnavutköy was open. After our dinner, Sarah and I wandered around the neighborhood looking for a warm place to sit, drink, and enjoy the atmosphere. We ended up freezing for the next hour.

Pitfall: Insane Bus Driver

Disillusioned by the lack of restaurants, we decided to travel back to my apartment. Luckily we caught the last bus to Sarıyer, but unluckily our driver was also in a hurry to enjoy New Year's. He drove fast enough to pass most cars on the road, sometimes going into the opposite lane to do so. When he came up behind a cop car, our driver did one of the strangest things I've ever witnessed on a bus.

Instead of slowing down and following the cop, the driver yelled back at the passengers to ask if everyone was going to Sarıyer. Once satisfied, he changed the bus's route number signs from 25E, the coastal road route, to 25T, the highway route. I think it was pretty unprecedented move, since my neighbors tutted him like a henas he charged down the middle of the highway.

Highlight: Spectacular View at Midnight

Despite the tailgating and the speeding and the unnannounced route switch and the nearly killing us, our bus driver did make extraordinary time. He was fast enough that Sarah and I actually made it back to my aparment a minute before midnight. There we took in the view of neighbors lighting off their fireworks against the backdrop of the Black Sea from my balcony.

Highlight: Dinner with Roommates

My roommates saw us standing on the balcony and invited us to join in on their New Year's dinner. Delicious food was followed with a demonstration of the "scientifically best" way to drink rakı. It took us a couple of bottles to make sure we learned it correctly.

Daily Life in Istanbul: Spice Bazaar

2009-11-23T23:21:00.002+02:00

The worst of maladies hit this morning when I ran out of walnuts. You see, walnuts, along with raisins and cinnamon, are a key component in my breakfast holy trinity that turns horribly boring bulgur into decent porridge. Luckily, my only class today was canceled, and I needed to do research at the beautiful Research Center for Anatolian Civilizations. That put me within a half-hour's walk of Mısır Çarşısı (Egyptian Market) known as the Spice Bazaar in English.

If I need spices, nuts, or dried fruit, I'll always try and make it to the Spice Bazaar. There might be cheaper prices somewhere else, but the heritage of a continuous economic activity since 1660 makes the balance. In order to go shopping, I have to walk past a line of fishermen sitting on Galata Bridge and then through the cacophony of counterfeit Adidas sellers in the pedestrian underpass. On the other side, the Yeni Camii peeks around one arm of the bazaar that's filled with the brilliantly lit shops of fishmongers and nut sellers. That's my main stop.

The sign reads, "Natural protection against swine flu." It's good to see a 350 year-old institution stay relevant.

After picking up a half-kilo of walnuts, a half-kilo of raisins, and a half-kilo of prunes, I head inside the building. Typically I don't buy anything, but everyone once in a while I find a gem. One of my best-received gifts, a bundle of artichoke tea, came from poking under display mounds of red pepper. If I'm hungry, I'll pick up a chicken bread döner with ayran for a couple lira, and then head outside to enjoy the shadows of the Yeni Camii.

What's the financial damage of an hour or so of strolling, shopping, and sinking into the heritage? 12 TL for 1.5 kilos of fruit and nuts. At a grocery store, the same would cost 30 TL. I really enjoy my trips.

Note: I've been eating the holy trinity bulgur porridge for a month and a half now. If you have suggestions for some variation on walnuts, raisins, and cinnamon that would taste great in the morning, please let me know.

Hallo İstanbul!

2009-11-11T20:51:00.006+02:00

My dad visited me in Istanbul this weekend, so for the remainder of this post I will change his honorific from Heinzelmännchen to Heinzpaşa. Being my first guest in Istanbul my tour guiding abilities weren't quite up to snuff. Still, we saw some of the essentials...

...like my school...

...the Blue Mosque...

...the Hagia Sophia (I had to post this one since the other guy leaned in at just the wrong moment. Sorry Dad.)...

...Topkapı Palace...

...the Spice Market...

...Galata Bridge...

...and the Walled Obelisk (now sans its bronze walls).

Our boat trip across the Bosphorus rose above anything else we did that weekend, especially for me. Of course Heinzpaşa found plenty subjects for pictures on the Asian side, but we found our real objective at the restaurant Çiya Sofrası. Run by Musa Daðdeviren, Çiya is something of a tour through the culinary anthropology of Anatolia. The menu expands far beyond the typical listing of Adana kebabı, İskender kebabı, patlıcan kebabı, and other variations on that theme, containing the most extensive kebap menu I've ever seen. I'll have to sample it next time though, since the Paşa and I dug into the weekly menu. For him, it was ezogelin soup and bozbaz. For me, it was nettle soup and blessed thistle. For dessert, tomato dessert. Yes, really.

Ezogelin Soup: Red Lentils, Mint, Garlic, Onions, Spices

Nettle Soup: Nettle, Wheat Berries, Chickpeas, Tarragon

Bozbas: Beef, Potatoes, Sour Plums, Cilantro, Yellow Root, Chickpeas, Chesnuts

Blessed Thistle: Milk Thistle, Lamb, Olive Oil, Lemon, Egg

Tomato Dessert: Tomato, Almond, Sesame, Clotted Cream, Lemon, Sugar

Happy Heinzpaşa!

I heartily recommend Çiya Sofrası to anyone visiting Istanbul. At 46TL and 20 minutes of riding ferries to and from Asia, it's entirely worth it. And if you come visit me, don't be surprised if we end up there.

Note: At times I had to use the Paşa's camera, which is nice but has far too many buttons for me. Any blurry, out-of-focus pictures are the fault of my difficulties with his camera, even the ones with that cursed thing in the frame.

Alanya Eats: Sweets

2009-10-31T12:21:00.004+02:00

One of my favorite parts of the semester at the McGhee Center was a plastic container on the kitchen counter next to the teapot. Every morning Hüseyin Usta would fill it with a bag of cookies bought at Çıtırım Pastanesi, and no more than fifteen minutes later I would arrive at school and prepare my daily breakfast of a banana, a cup of sage tea, and a plate of cookies. I figured that I hiked up a hill every morning, so I need the calories.

Alanya had scads of pastry and ice cream shops, but the constant supply of cookies at the villa robbed me of any motivation to seek them out systematically. Also, these restaurants weren't part of any concerted effort on the part of Zac and me, so I don't always have his opinion and I didn't take pictures. This short review of Mado, Çamlıca, and Çıtırım will have to without photos until I can get back to Alanya.

Mado Cafe

Mado Cafe is probably most responsible for internationally promoting dondurma, Turkish ice cream. By beating ground orchid roots, salep, into the mixture, dondurma becomes a sticky, chewy mass that won't disappear so quickly under brutal Anatolian sun. The style was first developed in the town of Maraş in the 19th century but has been promoted across Turkey since 1991 by Maraş Dondurması, better known as Mado. In addition to the famous ice cream, Mado also has a menu of decadent cakes and a variety of drinks.

Being a chain, Alanya's Mado is much like any other Mado in the world. Inside is a romanticized, commoditized vision of the classic pastry shop. I preferred the tables outside though since I think ice cream is best enjoyed in the sun. I'd recommend only buying a single scoop of ice cream the first time you go. The texture can be off-putting, and it would be a waste to throw away your 5 TL three-scoop cone. There are a rainbow of flavors, berries, fruits, chocolate, but don't expect flavors w'th a thousand mix-ins like rocky road or chocolate chip cookie dough.

Personally, the ice cream from Mado was unique, fun, and I had no regrets trying it out. I still rather have the ice cream melt in my mouth than chew it. That just might be the lazy American in me. There was an ice cream shop I absolutely loved though.

Çamlıca

Right across the street from the Alanya Archaelogical Museum there is a building with an open windows and eight steel lids on the counter below it. While dondurma may mean chewy ice cream to the rest of the world, this little shop proves that Turkey has many kinds of ice cream. For 50 kuruş a scoop, Çamlıca serves up tiny gelato-sized balls of deliciousness distilled from whatever fruits are in season. This has good and bad points. Bad that one day you'll find your favorite flavor has disappeared from the menu. Good that the same day you'll discover a new favorite melting in your mouth.

As you can tell, I liked ice cream. If I had to pick a favorite, I'd say melon was the best, but lemon and raspberry follow closely. Even better, the shop was about two minutes off the beach, so I could finish a swim and then enjoy a cone as I trudged back up the hill. Sometimes Zac and I would get competitive, ordering perilous five-scoop rainbow towers. The only problem I really had was that the shop closes for the season in late October or early November.

Çıtırım

My last recommendation is the cookie haven of Çıtırım. The day before long field trips, I would make a visit at the store to pick from the thirty or so different kinds of cookies on offer, priced by the kilo. I liked nearly everything, but my favorites were the tiny pound cake cookies, chocolate-covered marshmallow creme, chocolate truffles, black-and-whites, and the nutella-filled spirals. Often the store would change the cookies slightly from say an orange-flavored pound cake to an almond-flavored one. Those little variations made the store all the better.

A small sample of Cıtırım's cornucopia: pistachio macaroons, covered marshmallow cremes, fig chews, chocolate sandies, orange domes, chocolate truffles, and chocolate spiral sandwiches

When my mom visited, I made this one of the places she had to try. She thought that, in addition to the food, the service was fantastic, so much so that it's one of her favorite memories of the visit. There are actually two or three different branches of Çıtırım throughout Alanya. I frequented the one on Atatürk Bulvarısı the most because it was closer and I liked the activity outside the cafe.

Map Legend

Red: Fast Food
Teal: Ice Cream and Pastries
Blue: Sit Down Restaurants
Yellow: Drinking Spots
Green: Markets
View Alanya Restaurants in a larger map

Alanya Eats: Fast Food

2009-10-29T19:00:00.007+02:00

Not quite finished with my thesis series, I'm beginning a new series, a brief Alanya restaurant guide. When I studied at the McGhee Center, our cook Hüseyin Usta's hearty and delicious meals typically sated me, but sadly we didn't have his services on the weekend. On those days, I would go roaming the streets of Alanya with my roommate Zac, who you may remember from the Grand Turkish Beer Tour. This is a compilation of the highlights and disappointments of those adventures.

Fast Food

Yes, you can find McDonald's, Dominoes, Burger King, and a host of other American fast food chains in Alanya. I suppose it's comfort food if you get homesick. Zac and I were more interested in authentic Turkish fast food though, so we hit up Otantik Kumpir, Jimmy's Fried Chicken, Hacıoğlu, and Flipper Pizza. Some warranted a second visit. Some only warranted regret.

Otantik Kumpir

I would have never guessed it, but Turks love baked potatoes (kumpir). So much so, there's a national chain that specializes in serving up hot taters, split and stuffed with toppings. Zac and I visited the local Otantik Kumpir in our inaugural foray.

The inside was nice, something like a Steak'n'Shake with less red booth seats and more orange plastic chairs. Digging into the menu we found 8 or 9 options, and of course we went for the ones we thought were strangest. For me, it was the "Cripsy [sic] Chicken Kumpir" since Zac called dibs on the "Mexican Kumpir." Both came in at about 8 TL or $5.

The food was okay. My potato was a little undercooked, making attacks with a plastic fork difficult. When I managed to pile a bit of every topping on my fork, the taste took some getting used to. I've never really thought to put pickles with fried chicken bits, but it grew on me. Zac, on the other hand, got a masterpiece. A mountain range of Doritoes ringed corn, ground meat, and peppers in the middle of his potato. I was definitely jealous. He wasn't really impressed with the taste his either though. If you really want Tex-Mex food with the right spices outside of the US, the best idea is to bring taco seasoning mixes in your luggage.

In summary, Otantik is fun enough for at least one visit. The prices aren't bad and the food isn't horrible, just not memorable enough for a repeat.

Jimmy's Fried Chicken

I wanted to try Jimmy's Fried Chicken as soon as I saw the restaurant. One side was for the Hacıoğlu chain serving lahmacun and pide and the other side was for this strange, American-looking chicken restaurant. Later I found out that the two are owned by the same company, which is even stranger compared to the difference in quality.

After waiting an inordinately long time for our "fast food," Zac and I took our seats outside. What we found on opening the various wrappers of our meals didn't impress. The juice had been cooked out of my chicken and the cooking's heat had long left by the time I took my first bite of the 5 TL sandwich. It was accompanied by soggy, oversalted fries. Zac didn't enjoy much of his meal either, agreeing that the food off the dollar menu at McDonald's was cheaper, more delicious, and more filling.

Remember, the left side is better.

It would have been a much better order to shuffle a few feet to the left to Hacıoğlu's counter while ordering.

Hacıoğlu

Pide and lahmacun are oft confused parts of Turkish cousine. Bascially, both are some form of thin bread topped with a spiced, minced meat or cheese. One is round, one is shaped like a boat, but what each form is called depends on where you are, in my experience. At Hacıoğlu's though, I do know that lahmacun are round and delicious.

I forgot to take a picture, but here's an idea of how I order a lahmacun.

For a little less than 2 TL you get a circle of dough about 8 inches across that's crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and topped with a tasty blend of peppers, spices, and meat. This restaurant has become a standby for me, so I've developed a habit of ordering two lahmacun and a salad and then rolling each lahmacun around half of the greens. For being fast food, I'd say it's pretty healthy, and for being only 6 TL, it's surprisingly cheap and filling.

Sadly, I don't have any reactions from Zac since we never went here together.

Flipper Pizza

The consolation prize after failing to find the Halk Pazar one Saturday afternoon, Flipper Pizza became a quick favorite. The only difference between it and one of the American franchises in town were better staff, better prices, and better toppings. Before knowing any of this though, what drew in Zac and myself was a futile hope for pizza with dolphin or at least dolphin-unsafe tuna.

Pizza names like Albatros and Fungi may sound bizarre, but they are great combinations. I tried the Ocean (green pepper, onion, asparagus, pinapple, and mushrooms) the first time, and Zac went for the Kebap (garlic and gyro meat). The strangeness continued when our pizzas arrived with bottle of ketchup and mayo. Do Turks put ketchup and mayo on pizza? I don't know, but in the spirit of cultural immersion Zac covered one his slices with ketchup, and I covered one with mayo. The results were surprisingly good. Too rich for another, but the mayo really complimented everything on my pizza. From that meal on, if we found mayo and ketchup on the table, Zac would have to try his plate with ketchup and I'd have to with mayo.

Zac's Seal of Approval

Finding Flipper Pizza to be cheap (11 TL for a 14 inch pizza), fast, and tasty, we returned later in the semester to be impressed by pizzas like the Vegetarian and the Bolognese. The guys at the pizza joint even helped us find the emergency pharmacy one night. I absolutely recommend this restaurant.

Map Legend

Red: Fast Food
Teal: Ice Cream and Pastries
Blue: Sit Down Restaurants
Yellow: Drinking Spots
Green: Markets
View Alanya Restaurants in a larger map