Dispatch From LA

Still lingering over Istanbul.  Sitting tonight in my little cottage in LA thinking about another city and a ride along the Bosphorus with my sister.  Here, this is my favorite video of the trip.

 

 

...the Bosphorus, glimmering like a mysterious sea, changed color with the sunrise.  On misty spring evenings, when not a leaf in the city is rustling, on windless, noiseless summer nights, when a man walking alone after midnight along the Bosphorus shore can hear only the sound of his own footsteps, a moment will arrive... when he hears the happy roar of the current and notices with apprehension the gleaming white foam that seems to have come from nowhere, and he cannot help but wonder whether the Bosphorus has a soul.

 

from Orhan Pamuk's Istanbul:  Memories and The City

Old Growth Cities

One of our favorite cafes in Cihangir, where we returned again and again, had piles of collage fodder free for the taking.  That's where most of the random images in the journal came from.  Little zine-like booklets with happenings in Istanbul.  Loved cutting those up and adding them to our journals!

 

Made most of the number & day labels on my computer.  It's fairly simple to figure out.  I printed them on premium matte photo paper which is cardstock weight.  The colors are much richer on the photo paper than on plain white cardstock.

 

Also took a variety of old sticker letters and rub-ons.  Nearly all of them have traveled along on our last few trips.  I know I've said this before, but keeping a travel journal is a full time occupation while traveling.  If you have someone who digs it as much as you...well, that's pretty cool. 

I've also made travel journals for solo travels.  There's something about being all alone in an apartment in a foreign city with just a journal as a companion that is wonderfully thrilling, romantic, lonely, adventuresome.  Solo travel pushes me more completely into the otherness of a place.  Meandering among elegant old buildings falling into ruin.  Oh the pleasure!  Like strolling in an old growth forest.  Wandering looking seeing imagining.  There is so much to turn your attention toward.

My Big Fat Turkish Travel Journal

I've been absorbed back into school life this last week.  Reacquainting myself with the secret lives of six and seven year olds.  One foot still in Istanbul, the other planted firmly in the classroom.

Which is to say I abruptly ended my travel stories.  And you know I am nothing if not thorough, with a compulsion to conclude everything I start.  Which is to say, I'll return where I left off.  Probably.  Eventually.

Because there are some things I still need to tell you.  About our unorthodox car rental business in Izmir conducted on the trunk of the car using sign language.  About the South Aegean Sea where we swam for 2 days in a row and rented chairs from a man named Rambo.  About a drive we took at sunset up a narrow mountain road into a lovely village in our swim costumes.  Or maybe I'll just post all the travel journal pages and let you puzzle everything together.

 

It's all folded in between these pages.  The ordinary and extraordinary.  Small compartments of magic that a line or an image carry. 

 

I added quite a few full page photos when I returned home.  The majority of the journal was completed in Istanbul, but I leave blank pages for the pictures, which I print out on Office Max thin double-sided matte photo paper on my Canon MP 620 printer.

I'll include a video from Sister.  Who is much steadier with a camera that I am.

The Rest Of The Loot From Turkey...

  

A Day On The Water

 

 

 

 

 

 

From The Grand Bazaar

 

 

 

 

 

 

A couple more videos to deepen your armchair travels. Thanks for taking this journey to Istanbul with me. Your comments and emails are very dear.  

A King's Ransom

 Here we sit at the Bedestan cafe & patisserie nestled in a Turkish rabbit warren of hans (shopping districts).  Bowls of creamy yogurt in a pool of honey sit before us.  I'm slurping mine and I'm afraid my muzzle is covered in yogurt.  Sister is much more lady like. We just arrived at the bazaar having zipped over on the tram from Tophane, which we reached by way of a quiet out-of-the-way alley.   I love this about Istanbul - in the middle of a city of 15 million you can find quiet nooks of leaf and petal.

It's  midnight now and 12 hours have passed since I cheerfully handed Ozgur a king's ransom for my suzanis. The error of my bargaining ways seems crystal clear.  What was I thinking?  In my zeal to be a worthy bargaining opponent I forgot all about the most important element in all foreign matters of finance:  common sense.

   But in the end I suppose, when a snake charmer is working his magic with such finesse, you have no other choice but to lay your exposed neck on the gullotine and prepare for the seductive ax to fall.  I knew I'd failed  spectacularly when Ozgur began to throw free things into the mix along with an invitation to take us to lunch on Monday.   "Gifts" he said.    No thanks to lunch, but either way I'm going to to enjoy my Turkish suzanis from Uzbekistan. 

 After finishing every drop of my apple tea and posing for pictures with our snake charmer we kissed his cheeks and headed off into the labyrinth of the bazaar carrying plump bags under our arms.     

 

After many false starts we eventually made it out the semi-correct exit.  Down the narrow street we walked passing on the way many shops selling rivets, buttons, industrial looking snaps, pots and pans with floral bottoms, tea and coffee pots stacked high, backgammon sets, sheets, blankets, a gun shop, watches, cheap clothes, pashminas, lace tablecloths and thousands of other kitschy wares.  

 IN OTHER WORDS  exactly all of the items we'd carry out of the Grand Bazaar if were were to meet Ozgar for lunch on Monday.  I can see us now nodding yes to everything he showed us...then the balancing act of 2 circus bears as we teetered home on Turkish skates.  Oy.  

~

The Grand Bazaar is a densely packed area with more merchandise than is imaginable under one roof.   Even with a map, this15th century marketplace left us bewildered. The merchants are persuasive & persistent,  some falling just short of dragging you inside their shops.    We enjoyed seeing everything, but it really is an exhausting experience.  Probably not one I'd repeat.  I'd opt instead for the Cukurcuma   area in Beyoglu.  Seems more our speed somehow.  I will definitely save THIS experience for next time.  Suzani photos coming soon! 

This 30 second video (found it on youtube) is a little taste of the Grand Bazaar.

Travel Journaling At The Apartment In Istanbul

A Leisurely Day Of Small Adventures

We are taking the day off from hustling up and down the Cihangir hilltop.  Sister woke up with a brilliant idea to go sit at Cuppa and work in our journals.  So here we sit surrounded by grubbers and chatters.  How divine.  I'm sipping my 2nd iced latte and just finished a ham & cheese french toast sandwich.  I could be in Los Angeles except for the Rose of Sharon trees, the draping vines, tame cats, and all the people speaking Turkish.   Digging in.  Soaking up the neighborhood.  Bliss.

 

Woke up this morning at 9 am to a bright blue day, blue water as far as the eye can see, sky like faded denim.  We rearranged the patio furniture in a more pleasing configuration and lazed about till noon.

Made the acquaintance of 2 fine gentlemen from Montreal sitting at a table across from us.  Mercan Dede and Jarret.  They engaged us in a conversation about our journals and were very curious.  I let them look through mine and stood chatting at their table for awhile.  Mercan Dede (turkish) mentioned he was here in Istanbul with his band and handed me a cd on his way out the door.  I thanked him.  Music to journal by later.  An entirely delightful encounter.

I loved the 800 cd so much a few days later we went into a music store and a knowledgeable clerk led me to the Mercan Dede section where I bought 2 more cds:  Breath and Su.  What an incredible discovery.  The nay is an instrument I'd never heard of, but now that I've heard it played before I don't have words to describe how evocative and deep it is.   I've added the music to my sidebar along with a video down below.

On our way home we stopped at the mosque down the street from our apartment.  Closed, but we peered in the windows and saw the whole place filled with light from its large south facing windows.  Dappled tile and chandeliers warm with the sun.  There is a tiny park with an overlook here.  Jaw dropping views.  We're getting used to these, but each one still impresses.  We sit on a bench and watch the boats go by.  A leisurely day of small adventures.

In the evening we walked a short distance from the apartment to Kat 5 a splendid rooftop bar and restaurant.  5 floors up by vintage elevator then a spiral wooden staircase up to the roof.  Somehow we got in without reservations.  Scenic doesn't begin to describe the navy water of the Bosphorus,  twilight sky, and the Boğaziçi Köprüsü suspension bridge whose lights change colors every few minutes.  "Look,"  we tell each other, "ASIA!" 

Far across the water the white buildings with their amber lights are twinkling.  A whole other Istanbul to explore.

 

Travelogue

Sunny and cool in the morning.  Perfect for our day tour of the city walls and several sites outside the city walls:  7 towers fortress, Chora Church, Eyup Mosque, and Pierre Loti hilltop.  Place that are difficult to get to w/o a car.  After only an hour into the tour with our 4 other companions I started to go numb with the information overload.  I detest listening to narration of historical events when I'd rather be rambling and roaming. 

 

  I want to know about the thousands of names of Allah, what the calligraphy says, more about the call to prayer.  I'm fascinated by this world that is different than the one I inhabit in Los Angeles.  I tried to pay attention, but my efforts failed.  She spoke, our guide, but all I heard was, blah blah blah. The Eyup Sultan Mosque was my favorite stop along the rushed tour.  It is considered the 2nd place of pilgimage after Mecca for Moslems.  I found it distractingly beautiful.  I could stare at the Arabic calligraphy on the walls for hours.  There was not a single other western tourist here.

 

Today the mosque was filled to the brim with women in head scarves, some in full robes with only their eyes and nose showing.  We donned our own scarves, removed our shoes and stepped inside.  An enormous ring of blue glass globes hung low in the middle of  the praying area for men.  

Carol and I have noticed how soft and velvety all the carpet is inside the mosques we've been in so far.  We think they must change it often in the Blue Mosque to keep it so fresh.  Bare feet or not that's a lot of foot traffic!

 

Pierre Loti hill was charming, but again we were only allotted 15 minutes for tea.  Rush, rush, rush.  I'm glad this is our only tour the entire trip.  Tours are not a good fit for a piddler like me who must be unleashed to wander freely.  I can't experience a place as vast as Istanbul by ingesting facts.  

Everywhere we go there are cats and kittens.  Some better fed than others.  We did our duty and have given a portion of all meals to the cats who have visited while we're eating.  These have to be the most relaxed cats in the world.  They sleep on cars, ledges, sidewalks, stoops and walk unhurriedly from place to place.  

   

  

 

Bought tokens and got on tram to funicular.  The tram was like a big sardine can.  Packed to capacity when it arrived with every car filled, yet somehow the 50 people crowding the platform are supposed to squeeze on anyway.  I told Sister, "Get behind me, grab my shirt, and don't let go!"  She grabbed my hand instead and I pulled her through the mob and onto the tram.  Tight fit doesn't describe.  The funicular ride was much easier and we got seats.  Up to Taxsim Square then walked home down streets that were at first grimy then tree lined and draped with grape vine garlands and ivy.  All the way back to Cihangir.  All the way back down the 103 steps we have to climb twice a day.  It's worth the pain in my tuckus to be in this neighborhood.  I will try to suffer with dignity.  At least, as Sister says, these stairs are not spiral, leaning, and slippery like the ones in the Paris apartment!

 

More of the travel journal coming soon!

 

I found THIS site to feed some of my curiosity.  Good stuff.  Maybe if more people knew about Islam they would be less hostile to the mosque being built near ground zero in NYC.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Walk In Cihangir

A stroll through our neighborhood in Istanbul anyone?  Come along for a minute and a half jaunt through the streets.  

 September 1, 2010

Last night we ate our first Turkish meal at White Mill.  Even though we were drunk with fatigue the garden setting and hanging lanterns did not go unnoticed.  Magical.  From the street this place looks ordinary and empty, but then you walk up a flight of stairs down a passageway and descend into a garden lush with trees, vines, green.  Not a single breeze stirred the air.  No cooling for me yet.  At this point still wondering how I will possibly survive this deep penetrating heat.

Walked up to Taxsim Square.  We left Cihangir and climbed steadily up the slight incline and entered another world.  Dark, sooty, noisy, horns honking, what seemed like thousands of people milling about.  Carol used the payphone and called Verizon to get her global phone figured out.  I waited next to Carol who was next to a man wearing worn leather dress shoes who was taking deep puffs off a cigarette and exhaling clouds of smoke.

 

 

Her phone recovered, we climbed into our first Turkish cab for a quick ride home.  23 turkish lira.  I gave him a 50 TL note and he returned only 20 TL change.  A gross overcharge.  Too hot and too tired to argue.  We got out and found to our dismay we had been deposited at the wrong address on the wrong street.  $%$#@ Our search begins for Osmanbey Apartment #3.  Eventually we find it, but not before buying beautiful peaches from a tiny produce store on the corner.  The fruit and vegetables lay gleaming under the shopkeeper's lights, spread out like a buffet in their crates and baskets.  Wind blew giant sycamore leaves down onto the street.  It's midnight.  We're in Istanbul.  And it finally feels cooler.  I bend down and pick up one small yellow sycamore leaf to put in my journal.

 

After finally sleeping Tuesday we woke up super early.  The weather has changed dramatically!  The air is chilly with skies the color of pewter.  Rain is falling.  We flopped back in our beds and slept until 2 pm ish.

 

~

p.s.  While I was off exploring, the cat posse was lovingly cared for by the kind and wonderful cat nanny I found right here on the blog.  She went very far above and beyond in doting on Buck, Wyatt, and Corky.  I loved getting daily reports of their hijinx. 

 

Istanbul is a city of cats!  This one found a drink from a wash basin outside of a mosque.

 

 

Where I Copy Directly From My Travel Journal...

I'll be quoting liberally from my travel journal.  It's the easiest way to tell the story.  That writing will be in italics.  Real time writing will be regular.  I'll switch off.  You'll get confused and curse me.  Ready?  Here we go!

August 31, 2010

...eventually we landed in Istanbul.  I was shocked by the HEAT.  The air was thick and humid.  Fortunately the airport is a model of efficiency.  Obtaining the visas then getting our passports stamped was a breeze.   Our driver Ramazan was waiting with a sign, "MARIANNE"  He whisked us to our apartment in Cihangir on a breathless and daring ride through Istanbul's crowded streets.  We bumped along faster than seemed possible, swinging around corners, careening down hills, then finally screeching to a stop in front of our apartment.  Elif stuck her head out the window and motioned us up.  Unfortunately the ride from the airport did not include Ramazan hefting my bag up the spiral staircase.  Shite.

The apartment is smaller and slightly shabby, not quite like the photos, but the view...the view is undeniably magnificent.  In one sweep of the eye you take in Sultanamet across the Golden Horn and looking in the other direction across the Bosphorus, to Asia. 

Yes.  We're here.  The long long journey across 2 continents has ended.  After an entire day of having my extra large body squished into an extra small plane seat I can finally stretch out and MOVE.  I need a shower, but my eyes feel like they've already been washed staring out across the Bosphorus. 

Water, water, water as far as you can see.  All the way out to the Sea of Marmara.   We have landed somewhere new.

 

I'm worried about the heat, but we've stopped moving and after a cold shower I'm sure to cool down at least a few degrees.  After being in the apartment less than an hour we heard our first call to prayer and rushed out to the balcony.  Oh, oh, oh.  A more beautiful sound I can't remember hearing.  A droning warbling melody that reaches in and presses something on my heart.

I made this short video while at the Blue Mosque one day.  In each part of the city the call to prayer is slightly different depending on which mosque you are nearest.  One night we saw the actual muezzin going into the mosque down the street from our apartment to sing out the call of prayer.  He disappeared inside the closed mosque and 1 minute later the call began.

 

 

When I Close My Eyes I See Istanbul

If you have to get delayed, the CDG airport in Paris is the place to do it.

Our Istanbul Apartment!

We've found our apartment!  It's in the Cihangir neighborhood of Istanbul.  Cafes and windy streets. Slightly off the beaten track of pounding tourist hooves.  A mere tram ride away from the hustle and bustle of Sultanhamet.  A roomy balcony for staring off across the water to Asia or the mosques on the old city skyline.  2 bedrooms.   And best of all, a spacious dining room table where we might drink our Turkish coffee, or freshly squeezed pomegranate juice,  spread out our travel journal supplies, and record the details of our days.  Bliss.

A new part of the world to explore.  So happy!