Stanbuli

Stanbuli is what Gypsies call Istanbul (according to Isabel Fonseca in her really great book, Bury Me Standing). I sometimes like it better than Istanbul, although that might be because Stanbuli sounds kind of like the name of a pastry. (How would that be for a bakery name? I'm still having bakery fantasies, obviously. I would paint the walls, or at least one of them, a kind of warm, orangey color with a name like "Pumpkin Pie," and have some kind of nice, dark wood for the counter and display case, and daisies on the tables. I am compiling a list of things I would sell. Also a list of investors, so if you want to get in on this, let me know.) Anyways, Istanbul is not a pastry at all, but going through my pictures from the trip, I realized that about half of them are of food. This is partly because Ayse kept stealing my camera and taking shots of the food because, she claimed, this would make Rob jealous enough to want to honeymoon in Turkey. I kind of doubt that - it doesn't look like Ayse has a future as a food photographer - but we'll see.
Above is the meal at the fish restaurant, which included about fifteen different kinds of meze, a sort of appetizer that often makes up entire meals. The Turks definitely favor meals with lots of variety, with little bits of a bunch of different dishes, and if it isn't all meze, it's at least five courses. To the left, you can see a typical Turkish breakfast. It may not be clear in the picture, but there are three kinds of cheese, olives, jam, veggies, and BAKLAVA. FOR BREAKFAST. This was an amazing and fantastic change from the meals that are typical in my house, which are almost always one-dish creations. At my house, a fancy meal is when we have a serving dish on the table. I do own a couple of placemats and napkins, but we only break those out for really special occasions. So every meal felt like a Special Occasion, which is how I gained five pounds in one week.
This is one of the big, famous mosques behind the parking lot of Istanbul Modern, the city's modern art museum. Like pretty much every other modern art museum in the world, they have some really amazing pieces, like the ceiling made of hanging books, and some pieces that I could have created myself, drunk, blindfolded, and with my hands tied behind my back, like the coiled up vacuum cleaner tube. (What is art? Relative, I know; to me, it is that which I could not make myself, at least not easily or quickly. Or which that which is sitting in my basement.)










Here, I am enjoying simit and tea while I wait for the ferry to the islands. Fresh simit is really good, although I really only like it with tea.



















These are two cousins (?) of a friend of Ayse's, who accompanied us to the islands. During the boat ride, neither of them spoke to us much, but they opened up a lot once we got there and met up with Elif and her entourage. The one with the headscarf was enrolled in a summer English course, which is required for all Turkish university students, no matter what they are actually studying (she is studying physics). Her relative encouraged her to practice her English with me, since she knew I used to teach English in Germany. The other one, in the white shirt, is still in high school, but is learning German. She was bored listening to the other one practicing English with me, since she doesn't speak English, so she practiced her German with me, since she knew I am getting a graduate degree in German. So for four or five hours, I was speaking to the one in English, the other in German, and explaining what they didn't understand of both of those in Turkish. Let me make sure you understand how awesome I am: three languages, simultaneously, including explanations of grammar. It did give me a headache eventually, but I felt like a linguistic ninja. I also overheard some of the other people in our group commenting on what a good teacher I was, which felt pretty good. I think this was the highest non-culinary point of the trip.