"I want to sell you something you don't need"

It's about 11PM in Istanbul, and I am more tired than I have been both nights prior in the early morning hours. This is likely a direct result of having walked across every single flagstone in the city. Well, at least the tourist areas.

But we'll get to that later. For now, I wish to speak on some items that stand out to me from this city.

Let us first consider Food is delicious, is it not? The answer, of course, is yes. This food, especially:

This is the breakfast I was treated to at a nearby cafe. Turkish Ravioli, or manti (without the dot on the 'i'), and turkish coffee. The pasta is wrapped around a meat filling, further reinforcing the knowledge that my vegetarian tendencies are being sidelined for this trip. Yogurt and spices top the dish. It is amazingly delicious, and I must seek to replicate this dish upon my return. 

The turkish coffee was about as strong as what I like to make for myself, but it is extraordinarily thick. The drink reminds Jeremy of a forest due to its earthiness, but I am more of a damp-log-with-lichen kind of guy. I understand his sentiments, however.

At this breakfast I managed to steal half of Jeremy's red pepper dish as well, which was quite good as well.

Another thing to consider in Istanbul is the architecture. I find it utterly beautiful when the old and the new come along side by side in a city, and no city I have visited has been quite so jumbled as Istanbul. Observe:

Mosques and ancient buildings dot the map, with new shops, homes, and offices filling in between. I find myself thinking of a perverted form of "Where's Waldo", where instead of a red and white striped man the viewer singles out the ancient structures on the landscape. Utterly gorgeous.

Finally, let us consider tourism. Jeremy and I made the fateful decision to actually visit some of the more famous areas on the European side of Istanbul and toured the Blue Mosque, the Grand Bazaar, and some of the surrounding areas. It was completely different from the Istanbul I have been learning of thus far. Jeremy despises it, while I find it merely an interesting difference between what Istanbul is and what it represents itself as to the world. The shop owners are far more hawkish in promoting their wares and getting foreigners into their shops. Two seperate vendors tried to take us from busy intersections and sequester us in their carpet shops a few blocks away. It was quite surreal. Perhaps the best moment was during our tour of the Grand Bazaar. A man claiming to be from Sicily drew us aside to promote his shop (knickknacks and baubles, largely), and at one point he advertised to some passersby, "I wish to sell you something you don't need!"

I believe the sentence was meant in jest, but it fit with everything I saw of the place (with the possible exception of an excellent pottery shop in the area, which had a lower floor filled with amazing near-replicas of several different types of turkish pottery and had an amazingly informative and pleasant owner).

The maws of consumer hell (it reminded me of Hong Kong)

Honestly, as long as you go into the Grand Bazaar expecting them to try ripping you off and you want to buy useless things, it is quite fun. It is almost as crowded as some of the most popular street markets in Hong Kong, and it has a very similar feel to the commerce. The main difference is that you have a covered roof above you instead of towering monoliths of concrete rising into the sky from either side. Well, and the vendors are Turkish instead of Cantonese, of course. The similarities still stand.

While Jeremy and I could not get into the Hagia Sophia today (it is closed on Mondays) and we did not care to spend the money to enter the palace on this day, we did visit the Blue Mosque.

This thing is huge. Utterly huge.

I have a ton of pictures from this area in general, but I promised myself to only inflict a bare minimum upon you at this time. How else will I force friends to watch a slideshow of my trip? (That's what you do to friends, correct? Harm their free time and will to live by barraging them with photos of things they haven't done?)

Well, okay, a few more.

The entrance is up a set of handicap-unfriendly stairs

Gorgeous.

This should give a bit of a better sense of scale. This sucker must be at least 20-30 stories tall.

Alright, that's it. I promi-

WAIT One more! After the tour Jeremy and I cross the Bosporus again and walked forever, had dinner, and then walked forever some more. The dinner, however, was great. We waited for the call for fasting to end, and then had a traditional meal with dates, lentil soups, breads, meat and rice, and some amazingly sugary dessert that I could not begin to describe at this time.

That thing at the lower right is the dessert of doom. It is crispy brown on top, but it is made of shredded... something, something that has been soaked in sugar with walnuts lightly mixed in. The green on top is pistachio. Jeremy has taught me that everything green in this country is pistachio. EVERYTHING.

This is Turkish Tea. I have had it before, but forgot to take a picture until now. It is quite delicious and bitter. If you are the type to enjoy sugar, Turks use sugar cubes. I've seen some keep the cube in their mouth and regulate how much of it goes into each sip that way. Personally, I do not care for using sugar.

I am finished now, I swear.

-Hyde

Istanbul: Further Surveillance

It is 2AM on Monday. A light rain was falling on Istanbul when I awoke last morning, proving that even the most gorgeous places sometimes have grim days. Jeremy tells me this is perhaps the third time he has seen it rain since his move to here several months ago. I like those odds, especially now that the rain has cleared.

We departed two evenings ago to meet with two of Jeremy's friends nearby before crossing the Bosporus. Atakan and Roseann, a half-Italian, half-Turkish guy and an Irish girl respectively, were an amazingly kind and friendly couple. The casual atmosphere between friends and acquaintances is a great thing to experience. Atakan offered us each an amount of a Turkish vodka with some very interesting, almost coffee aftertaste to it. I am unsure of whether I prefer it, but it was quite kind.

We soon had to split up from them and took a ferry across the Bosporus to the European side.

I look like an utter jerk.

At least the view is nice.

That boat is a tour boat. I know I am not a tourist because I am not on it.

This is some kind of incredibly important tower that I'll likely climb later on to take pictures from. I cannot for the life of me remember what it is called, and I am sure I shall be chastened for it.

We had plans to meet with another of Jeremy's friends later, but in the meantime we visited an "irish pub". The beer were all pilsners of varying degrees and there was not much actual Irish to it, but the place was quite nice regardless. We also met another patron of the bar, a Japanese woman who was staying in the city for the next few months to teach English. She knew very little Turkish, so it was easy for me to share in some of the language difficulties we have both experienced here. A very nice conversation was had, and I learned she had been to America for about a year before this, and was staying with her husband while in Turkey.

After some time, Jeremy and I left the bar for the center of Taksim, where we would meet with Pinar. He convinced me to try a kind of fast food burger that he constantly raves about, and it was remarkably reminiscent of an American Sloppy Joe, with less slop. It was about this time when we finally joined Pinar and I was spared from the accounts of Jeremy's addiction to these cruel devices. Poor devil.

As it turns out, Pinar is awesome. She joined us as we sampled a few bars and spots around the Taksim nightlife for the conversation. Perhaps the best part of the evening (in my mind) was the discovery that while all of us understood English, only Jeremy and Pinar could speak Turkish, only Pinar and I could speak French, and only Jeremy and I could speak Pig-Latin. Purposefully exclusive conversations have never been so fun.

Proof that Pinar exists. Ignore the strange guy.

We eventually left Taksim and arrived at the apartment by 2AM. I am unsure whether I should fear becoming used to this sleep schedule, as it cannot possibly be healthy. We'll see how long it continues (probably for the duration of the trip, unless I suddenly need to turn in early). I must confess I am unused to this lifestyle now. While in college I could wake up around 10AM and stay up until 2AM, more recently my work schedule shifted my normal sleep cycle to a 5AM-11PM  system. Now it appears to be closer to my former lifestyle, only this time with less responsibilities.

My jet lag appeared to catch me last night, as I slept until almost noon and still felt groggy upon waking. I shall skip most of this day (it was dreary for the first half and involved Sleepless in Seattle somehow), Jeremy, Pinar and I sojourned around town and met up with Atakan and Roseann again, as well as several new people. From that point on we had a minor mob to ambush unsuspecting tea gardens, cafes, and bars.

Two things are of note from this part of the evening.

One is that the politics and history of Turkey is utterly fascinating, and the inhabitants of Istanbul, while very progressive, do not necessarily reflect much of the surrounding country. This poses some unique expectations and challenges for Turkish citizens, especially when it relates to joining the EU or obtaining visas for other countries in which to work, study, or live. There is also great expectations for Turkey, as a young nation (less than one hundred years old) that is trying to be the foremost muslim-based democracy in the world. I invite further conversation on this topic at a future point.

The second item is that many of the new friends I have met have great taste in music, both western styles and Turkish bands. I was particularly surprised to discover that such bands as Interpol, Cake, and They Might Be Giants are known here (though I should not be so surprised with TMBG. This is not Constantinople after all). U2 is to perform a concert with Snow Patrol in the city later this week, as well. I shall not be going, however (I dislike Bono, who has apparantly refused to perform in Turkey for twenty years in a human rights protest and even now only calls the city Constantinople, and does not advertise the event as a concert). This is because on Tuesday, the day of the concert, we will be welcoming another traveller to the apartment. A Slovakian friend of Jeremy's sister is visiting the city for a time, and we will be hosting her (by 'we', I of course mean Jeremy. This is not my apartment, nor my place to host. I can pretend, though).

Everything keeps getting better here. If I am not careful, I might become used to having an interesting life.

These are the gates to a deceased, well-known artist who specialized in children's shows and folk music.

The inside of the gate has creepy bronze statues of the children who failed him.

The yard is full of metal vegetables. I wonder if they count as vegan.

That white part from before is actually a hill made of music. Nice.

This old building stood out to us as we were waiting for Atakan and Roseann. It honestly looks like someone transported it from a remote, craggy mountain and hid it within Istanbul. Damn you, Carmen Sandiego!

I did warn you about these pictures.

Fishing and dilapidated buildings go together quite well.

I often enjoy hiding the fact that I am taking pictures of people. It makes for much more candid photographs.

Jeremy and I have determined we should start a new indie rock band with this as the cover of our first album. I agree.

Finally, do you remember I mentioned cats are everywhere? Jeremy and I were eating french fries while waiting for Atakan and Roseann to meet up with us (they were stuck in traffic due to the holiday), and this kitten kept trying for our plate. He probably jumped up on Jeremy seven times or so, and myself at least twice. Cute little thing.

C'est tout maintenant, mes amies.

-Hyde

Some quick notes

I have returned from a memorable evening, but will post more later, once I have had time to collect my thoughts.

In the meantime, there are some things to mention about Istanbul:

• Pedestrians are roadkill waiting to happen. They haven't died off because there are so many of them.
• Drivers here are of the most terrible sort. Lines on the road are light suggestions on possible paths to drive on, signals are never used, and everyone has a death wish.
• I am suspending my pescetarianism for the duration of this trip. It may be feasible to maintain it, but I certainly wouldn't be able to try the majority of new things available here.
• Jeremy was right. The beer here is quite tolerable, but nothing interesting. I am glad that I brought him two microbrews from New England from my flight over, and glad that I shall be able to return to such on a regular basis upon the termination of my stay here.

I shall reflect on these notes and the evening I have had, and post more upon waking. It is 2:40AM here at the time of this post, and in order to have more waking hours I must first sacrifice time to Morpheus.

-Hyde

Istanbul Experiment: Initial Observations

It is almost 4PM in Istanbul as I write this. I have had my first look around the city and will soon be leaving for the evening, meeting up with some friends of Jeremy's on the European side.

Things have gone well so far. The second leg of the trip was much more difficult to stay awake for some reason, perhaps because of the irregular amount of sleep I obtained during the first flight. Trying to read Faust did not suffice during the layover. The structure of the poem seemed poised to strike down whatever consciousness I had left within me. I soon found myself browsing for another story I'd yet to read, settling upon Dracula. This caught my interest far more and I was able to endure the layover and flight with hardly a thought, though I fear that the journalistic writing style may temporarily affect my own. (Perhaps I had dreamed it, but for a moment while flying over Germany I could have sworn I saw a pair of red eyes stari-STOP IT HYDE YOU ARE NOT BRAHM STOKER-sigh)

Getting through customs was remarkably simple. I gave a man behind a booth twenty dollars and he provided me a ninety day visa sticker on my passport. I gave another man my passport and he stamped it. I walked out, picked up my luggage, and passed through a door where customs agents where just watching people for an unknown purpose. I say unknown, for they never stopped anyone, there were no forms to fill out for import/export, and the officers didn't seem bothered by whatever they saw in our weary group.

On the other side of the doors from customs I met Jeremy. We boarded a bus to a popular area of the European side around 1AM (I believe it is called Taksim). Taksi is Turkish for Taxi, and Jeremy tells me the ending m makes the word possessive ("my taxi"). This was quite true, I have rarely seen so many taxis crowding an area as I noted in that plaza. We took another bus to Kadikoy, and walked to his apartment. I told myself that I would immediately fall asleep (it was 2AM here / 7PM at home), but that was not entirely accurate.

I still woke at a reasonable hour. The sun was out and it was around 9AM. Jeremy had run out to get groceries, and by the time he was back and had breakfast ready I was fairly coherent and ready for the day.

Jeremy made me a mostly-standard Turkish breakfast:

Egg with tomato and pepper, cheeses from sheep and perhaps goat, bread, olives, and very fresh milk. I also had sage tea, which was quite delicious for being one of those bagged Lipton affairs. There was also a fresh fig, which is utterly amazing and I would readily consume again at any time.

Before heading out for the day (and finally bringing my camera with me), he introduced me to the peach juice here. It literally is like they took a peach and liquefied it, and it is amazingly delicious. This makes two drinks that are in danger of disappearing should I be near.

We took a walk through several nearby locales after breakfast. An amazing park by the waters of the Sea of Marmara. A place roughly translated as a "tea garden" where one sits at tables scattered along an overlook of trees and the sea, where turkish tea and cold drinks are served to those who want it. A crowded street market filled with fresh fish (the fishing season started September 1st, apparently, so everything here is fresh now). Bakeries, dessert shops, nuts and spices. There is too much to list for now. I shall include some pictures I took to relate some of this.

Two things stand out during this trip. One is how similar everything is. There is definitely a different feel to everything, but a city is still a city, and Istanbul is not so much different from others. The other is how polite everyone is. Even when hawking wares, the vendors do not push you to buy. They encourage you to try samples, and don't mind much if you don't have the minor change necessary for paying full price. It is quite interesting, and I am certain I shall make more notes about this in the future.

In the meantime, it is nearly time to head back to Taksim for this evening. Jeremy has made elaborate plans to introduce me to apparently everyone he knows in this city, and if I am to be overwhelmed with new acquaintances I should probably get off the internet for some time.

First, however, those pictures:

The park, overlooking the water. I could get used to this.

So these are what figs look like.

The promenade, walking along the Kadikoy shore.

The rooftops interest me greatly in this city. It's one of the little differences that stand out to me.

For those who do not know, this is Jeremy. He is awesome. He has a blog at http://asimjeremy.blogspot.com

Apparently stray cats and dogs are common in Istanbul. They also apparently have perfected being adorable and friendly to survive.

My major is now a chocolate.

...What?

A look at what the signage is like around Istanbul. The typeface is very succinct, but it retains a kind of elegance that I do not recall seeing in most US varieties.

This is a glimpse of the street market Jeremy and I toured. If this is uncrowded (it is Ramadan and most people stay indoors during a good part of the day, apparently), I am intrigued to see the change next week.

SO MANY DESSERTS SO MANY CHOICES I MUST EAT THEM ALL

A wider street, this is fairly common in atmosphere from what I have seen around Kadikoy. At least, during the day. I understand there are several bar-heavy streets near me.

Hey let's cross the str-SO MANY PIGEONS WHAT ARE THEY DOING?!!

In truth, who can say?

(I can - they are eating bread)

A political rally of some kind was being set up. Police were stationed nearby with automatic weapons. This was close enough for my first day in the city.

Terrible picture in terms of quality, but this shows one of the jellyfish that are common in the bay.

Look at that street crossing sign. It has a counter for the time until pedestrians can cross, as well as how much time they have to cross. Genius.

There is a fair amount of graffiti around the city. I like urban decay and street art in general, so you may see some of these photos sometimes. I have seen one message in english here so far, but did not have the presence of mind to take a picture of it. Instead, you get more standard fare.

Until next time,

Hyde

The Flight Over

I have arrived at Jeremy's apartment in Kadikoy, and after a good night's sleep I have had my first exploratory venture into Turkish culture. I shall write of that soon. First, however, I shall post a writeup I had done while waiting at CDG airport in Paris:
___

I am writing this while awaiting my flight out from Charles-de-Gaulle Airport. The time here is 1PM, my flight leaves at 7PM, and I feel like it's 7AM. This is going to get interesting.

Yesterday was very promising. I finished packing early and made some quick plans for both lunch and dinner of the day before leaving for foreign soil. I met up with an old friend from high school for lunch in Davis Square and was informed of a fair amount of gossip regarding my old troupe. I am unsure how one packs so much dysfunctional drama into so few people, but it is truly fascinating to hear. If I could drive a generator based on strange life choices, I'm pretty sure one of them could power a small city indefinitely (note: pursue this idea). My friend and I agreed that we were better off observing this from a distance, and we parted ways.

I bacame restless around 4PM and decided to head off to the airport early, just to check in and start the trip. It was not nervousness, for I rarely get so (excepting the minutes leading up to a live stage presence, which never fails to unnerve me). It wasn't anticipation either, which would have required thinking ahead beyond the next few hours. It was merely a need to get out of the apartment and start.

My bags were checked around 5, and I sat around reading until 7:30, where I met two friends for dinner at the airport (one was arriving, one picking up). The food and conversation were quite good, but I fear that my introduction to pomegranite lemonade was a mistake. There is no known method that could stop me from consuming one of these beverages should it lie in front of me. Its existance shall cease then and there, no matter how much promise it had for its future life.

While waiting for my flight, I remember overhearing the destinations of other passengers. Les Mans, Zurich, and Amsterdam were ones I distinctly remember. After some time we shuffled onto the plane, were served dinner at midnight, and the next thing I remember I'm shaken awake being asked if I wanted breakfast. Breakfast? I just had dinner! I had apparently passed out for most of the flight, and woke up over the Celtic Sea about an hour before landing. I landed around 11AM here, and was shuffled through security gates and strange taxiing services to get to my next terminal.

I must say that the transportation of CDG is indeed strange, and not in a good way. Most airports I know have major security checkpoints, and once you are through you can walk to whatever terminal your flight is at using pedestrian measures. Here, autobuses seem to take you everywhere, and they come every ten minutes or so. Instead of major security checkpoints, they seem to have a plethora of minor ones dotted everywhere around the terminals. I have no idea where they have their zones of protection set up, but I must be in five of them right now. It is ridiculous (or perhaps I merely found the most inefficient path to my terminal? I find it difficult to believe all of it was necessary).

On the bright side, the terminals themselves are quite beautiful once you make it through the gauntlet of wand-waving security officers. The architecture inside almost makes up for the terrible transit system outside. Almost. I do not have my camera, so you shall merely have to imagine it. Curved glass windows supported by thin, white beams of steal curve around two floors. The lower level is in the center, of it looking up into the sky, filled with shops and a stairwell leading up. The upper level splits and wraps around the sides, housing the terminals and an excellent view of... well, the airport. It may technically be Paris, but one couldn't tell by looking.

The french announcements here all sound familiar, but it has been years since I have practiced my French, and the words fly by faster than I can comprehend them. At least when I get into Istanbul I won't constantly feel like I'm on the verge of grasping their meaning before the english version is spoken. Even when the flight was called for boarding I only understood the seating numbers being called. It makes me want to spend some time relearning conversational French, but I'll only be here for a few more hours. It is not really worth it until I plan a proper trip back here.

It is now about 2PM in Paris (8AM US, 3PM Istanbul), and my flight is at 7. I think I'll conserve battery life and read Faust. That is one definite advantage to travelling again - I will likely have read as much during these flights as I have read all the year prior.

Turkey Time!

Oh man, I totally have a blog still!

My apologies for forgetting you, internet, I've just been really busy with other things of late. That, and I never got into the habit of writing anything. This blog was originally meant to be a place to exorcise terrible ideas from my head and into a far more terrible place, but I believe I'll start making it a bit more personal.

I say this because I fly out to Turkey tomorrow evening. Istanbul, mind you, not Constantinople. I haven't perfected travelling into the past quite yet.

I will be visiting a good friend of mine who I had been flatmates with for three years during my undergraduate studies at WPI. I had the pleasure of watching Jeremy become ever more obsessed with the country of Turkey over that time, and after graduation he moved overseas. Back in July, while on a video call with him, we forged a plan to see each other once more. This plan, to be enacted for the next two weeks, involves sleep deprivation, last minute packing (still not done! Damn you, suitcase, pack yourself already!), and if my parents are to be believed some excerpts from Midnight Express (a movie I have never seen, but apparently involves drugs and Turkish prisons). Thanks, mom. Good to know. I'll only go to the classy opium dens.

More seriously, however, I intend to take several pictures and write about my trip on a semi-regular basis on this blog. I hope to inspire you to visit new countries and cultures from this, as well as create a record of my stay. To this end I shall task myself with posting once every day or so, given an internet connection and power to my laptop. We'll see if I can keep that goal.

I have now run out of things to say and my suitcase is still not packed. Time to stop procrastinating and just get it done.

Adieu, internet! (That means goodbye in French. I say this because my layover is in Paris (Stop writing now Hyde (okay)))

Why I don't write screenplays anymore

An oak stump, night. Stars smear light through light cirrus and smatterings of stratus clouds. Visible in the distance in one direction is the Great Work of Humanity. In another, a gigantic stuffed pigeon.

Hum enters from left, sits wordlessly on the stump. His eyes trail the stars for a time, then settle upon the Great Work. Disparagements are uttered.

Zoo enters from right carrying a live panda bear, sits wordlessly beside Hum, who hums at the interruption. Zoo observes the gigantic pigeon in the distance.

Zoo: I wonder what it thinks about.
Hum: Pardon?
Zoo: The pigeon. I wonder what it thinks about.
Hum: It's stuffed. I don't think it's thought for years.
Zoo: Then what's the point of all that head?
Hum: Not much of one, really.
Zoo: Oh.

A moment of silence is shared.

Hum: Do you know what that is to the side of it?
Zoo: You mean the peanut butter factory?
Hum: Yeah. Well, no, not the factory.
Zoo: The peanut butter?
Hum: Yeah. What do you think it would say, if it had a mouth?
Zoo: I imagine it would scream.

A lightning bolt in the shape of a smiley face flashes through the sky, with no thunder. Something artful and pretentious is heard doing trigonometry from offscreen.

Hum: I suppose you're right.
Zoo: None of this makes any sense, does it?
Hum: What, the pigeon?
Zoo: No, this entire thing. This. *Zoo describes a circle in the air*
Hum: I guess it doesn't.
Zoo: Do you think anyone will get it?

Hum and Zoo both swivel to camera, stare into audience's soul. Audience feels perturbed and confused. Cut to black. Barry White plays to credit roll.

Fin.