The Outside

Per your request, photos of the outside of the house. We're still waiting to hear from the sellers.

There isn't much to say about the outside of the house itself, except that I wish the windows were bigger. And that it were brick. But one cannot have everything.

Here, you can see the extent of the landscaping. Just that bush and that tree. The rest of the yard is grass.

This is the back of the house and the garage. The rows of four windows on both floors are the windows for the "porches."

Here, you can see most of the yard (too big for my tiny camera!), part of the driveway, and the neighbor's house. The alley is paved, and although the garage is only for one car, this spot next to it would easily fit one or two more cars.

House-hungry

Here are some more pictures from the house we're interested in. Full disclosure: we're waiting to see if the sellers accept the purchase agreement terms we proposed, and then to see if the inspection we're getting turns up anything horrible.

This is the living room. Under that ugly carpet are wood floors!


This is one of the bathrooms. Tiny, yes, but one of THREE. Ok, one of those three is kind of scary and in the basement, and the third is only slightly larger than this one, but still. THREE.






This is the deck on the back of the house, along with a glimpse of the huge yard. Did I mention that it's on a double lot?







One of the upstairs bedrooms. There are technically four in the house (two up and two down), but one of the downstairs ones will probably be something else, like a library or a den or something.

Another one of the bedrooms. There is enough space in this house that we might just turn it into a GUEST ROOM. Which might just make us real adults. Also, you would have a place to stay when you come to help us renovate!









Here, Matt is walking through the second kitchen to the upstairs porch. The house was once a duplex (there are some stairs going nowhere in the basement). Because this is Minnesota, the porches are just regular rooms with extra windows and no real insulation. And in the case of this house, pine wood paneling. I'm still figuring out how to come to terms with this.


This is the upstairs hall, shot from the landing between floors. Note the classy wallpaper (which I might just keep) and more (not pine) wood paneling.










This is the dining room, and the end of our tour for today.

Update

Ok, I know it's been a few days (9?!) since I finished the Istanbul report and said there was other stuff happening here that deserved some space. Sorry! It's mostly old news now, and not one of my most creative posts (I'm in a hurry!), but just pretend that you're as out of the loop as I am and it will seem new and fascinating.
1) I cut Matt's hair. It has apparently been too hot for regular hair, which I find hard to believe, since my hair is 15 times longer than his was, but he had more hair to cut off than I expected. Here are some of the styles we considered.
I think this would have helped Matt make lots of new friends here in St. Paul, but apparently he's too good for the local tattoo shop crowd.
This is about what he looks like now, even though this photo is at least a week old. After we finished with Matt's, Rob got jealous (he seems to suffer a lot in the heat), so we cut off all his hair too.
I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm a bit jealous of his hair - it's thick and dark and kind of curly, where mine is thin and stubbornly straight - so it was hard to see it all cut off. But it turns out that my family's hair is a lot easier on the clippers than his.
Don't worry, I still have my hair. But that may change if the weather continues.
After fixing up the guys, I decided it was time to tackle other, longer-standing projects, so I finally got some primer and paint and polyurethane (which is a lot more expensive than I thought)
and painted this previously hideous roll-top desk and our coffee table. The project took me three days of painting, two of which were pretty good painting days. I learned that white paint and black dogs do not mix, and neither do perfectionism and procrastinating (both of which are problems for me). I haven't put the hardware back on, because I want to find something better (but that isn't keeping us from using it). I haven't found something better because first I need to finish up the detail on the roll-top. I probably won't get around to either of these because I wasted so much time working on that stupid desk that I am behind schedule on my research project.
Etcetera.



In other big news, Rob and I might buy a house. This plan is only a few hours old, so don't get too excited (but do cross your fingers, and maybe free up some time this fall to come help us renovate/move). Here is a sneak peek of the kitchen.

Constantinople

Probably my last post about Istanbul. Not just because there aren't that many other good names to call it, but because we are coming to the end of my pictures. And other things are happening that deserve to be written up here. And today's to-do list is as long as my arm. So:
Me with pistachio and raspberry ice cream at the islands. I asked for a small cone, and this is what I got. Like pretty much everyone else in the world, Turks are extraordinarily proud of their ice cream, which is a little like gelatto, but tastes basically like lots of sugar and not much else. I frankly can't understand why they would bother with ice cream when there are so many other things there worth eating....
This is a lighthouse and a ferry/railroad station on the Asian side which we passed on our way back from the islands. The station was built by the Germans back in the late 1800s. It is pretty.
Ayse and her mother at the largest meal we ate while I was there. We went over to Elif's house, where she and her mother made spreads and dips and sandwiches and this kind of noodley-cheesy dish called borek which I love, and served it all with various olives, cucumbers, tomatoes, simit, french bread, jams, honeys, and cheeses. And tea (always tea). We ate in a little gazebo they have out in their garden, which is a rare commodity even on the outskirts of town. It very much resembled a scene from French Kiss, or one of those mafia films where the family eats out in the rustic, Sicilian garden: too much food, scraggly fruit trees, birds and butterflies and daisies and little kids chasing kittens through the grass, except there was no wine and many of the women were wearing headscarves. While we ate, Elif's extended family came by to meet us and show us their babies (a favorite pastime of the Turkish housewife). Lovely.
After this marathon brunch, I thought we were headed home, but we (obviously) went to visit some other family somehow related to Ayse. Her maternal aunt, I believe. They live in a different compound than the one where I stayed (which was paternal aunts and uncles). This family had a plot of land with one stumpy little apartment building and one tiny house, with a mostly paved courtyard between them. Ayse's aunt lived in the "big house," along with some of her five sons, their wives, and their kids, and the rest of them lived in the "little house." They all seemed to spend most of their time in the courtyard (above and below), though, wherever there was some shade. Aye's cousins-in-law (or whatever you call the wives of her cousins) were funny and very curious about me; luckily, this visit was near the end of my week, so my Turkish was much improved and I managed to actually converse with them without too much trouble. They gave me a couple of recipes which I intend to try sometime soon, along with lots of dubious advice about babies and married life.
After a lunch of pizza, cake, fruit, and tea, we moved on to a dinner of meat, salad, bread, and tea. The men were really excited to grill for us; it was the only food prep I saw any men do (outside of restaurants), and it was probably because they don't do it much that it was so (unnecessarily) complicated. They had a tiny metal table/box thing, about the size of a laptop, where they put some charcoal and wood, and put that on top of a big oil drum thing. After about two hours of fanning and dancing around and feeding the tiny fire with little sticks and paper, they got impatient (or their wives did) for the coals to reach just the right temperature and broke out the HAIR DRYER, and sprayed sparks all over everyone, putting little burn marks in the headscarves of several people. Eventually, the meat cooked, and it was lovely, but probably not worth the trouble.This is Ayse's youngest brother, Furkhan, holding some Ottoman candy. Like most other male member's of Ayse's family, he is extremely shy, and only started speaking to me after I lived in his house for four days. He is also pretty into Ottoman history, from what I can tell, and tried to explain to me the importance of this taffy thing in the grand scheme of Turkish history. I didn't really get it. On my last day in Istanbul, I extracted from Ayse a promise to help me buy the things I wanted to take home. We discussed our plan in great detail the night before, and agreed to leave the house by 10am to drive into the city; the next morning, obviously, we didn't hit the road until 11:30. I was so annoyed by this, and by the fact I hadn't had breakfast, that I wasn't really paying attention where we were going until Ayse rang the bell of a very heavy, ornate door in the fancy-schmancy shopping district of Nisantasi (not the place to buy Turkish teacups, which is what I wanted to shop for). No, we weren't there for teacups, we were there TO VISIT MORE FAMILY. I know, I know, cultural differences and all that. So here is Ayse with her "most charismatic" uncle, who, like most of her uncles, run some kind of textile company. She works for one of them, but not this one (I think). We visited three more uncles that day, as well as Ayse's tailor, and did make one cursory stop for a teakettle. We didn't have time to buy teacups like I wanted, so Ayse's mother gave me some. This is Ayse's mother on my last night. She was a lovely woman, kept calling me her second daughter and making sure I had enough cold water, even though she herself doesn't really drink water. Unlike the Turkish hospitality I encountered elsewhere, she was not imposing or demanding; she was never offended when I declared myself unable to eat another bite, and, in addition to the teacups, she only gave me a hand-embroidered towel and a scarf with lace which she also made herself. This was much easier to transport than the pants, skirts, blouses, and jacket which Ayse's textile relatives insisted I take with me, or the book on the life of the prophet her more pious aunts gave me....

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.

Istanbul

So, I was in Istanbul this last week, which you know because I dutifully warned you. It was an intense week, starting with the intense-but-relatively-convenient direct flight from here to Amsterdam, then direct from there to Istanbul. The planes, for some reason, were FREEZING COLD. I had my airplane socks and a sweater, and even pestered the stewardess into giving me an extra blanket, and I still nearly died of exposure. The flight to Amsterdam landed early, which was great, because I only had 1 hour to make the flight to Istanbul, but we wound up having to sit on the runway for so long that it was later than scheduled getting to the gate. The sprint to the next flight was probably all that saved my frozen toes from falling right off.
When I finally did get to Istanbul, though, things went quite smoothly. They let me into the country (you have to buy a "visa" for $20 at the airport before they let you leave), my bag arrived on the same plane I did (a shock, considering my layover), and Ayse was even there to meet me. Since I arrived at about 4:30, all we did the first day was go home and eat and go to bed. When Ayse explained this to me at the airport, I said "no, no, I don't want to ruin your evening, I have the energy to do something!" But Ayse just shook her head. Then we sat in traffic for THREE HOURS. I wish I were exaggerating, but I am not. It was excruciating, after the airplanes, and terrifying. As you can perhaps tell from the picture of Ayse, she does not have very good peripheral vision, between the headscarf and the sunglasses, which certainly had something to do with the 5 or 6 near-death-experiences we had on the way to her house.
When we weren't almost getting killed, we were sitting completely still, not moving at all, not even an inch. Luckily, Ayse understands the silliness of the Turkish belief that air-conditioning can cause paralysis, so at least we weren't at risk for dying of heat-stroke. And we weren't going to starve or die of dehydration either, because there is an entire industry which has sprung up around the traffic jams of Istanbul. There are men who walk up and down the highways between cars selling cold bottled water, simit (a kind of Turkish bagel), and lemonade. If you squint, you can see one of the simit men in the photo on the left. I wanted to take one closer, but Ayse said if I did, he would not only insist that I buy a simit, but that I buy it at "foreigner prices."
Eventually we made it home. Ayse's family lives in a part of town called Sultan Beyli, which is about an hour from the city center. They (Ayse, her mom and dad, and two of her three brothers) live in an apartment on the second floor of a 5 or 6 story building populated entirely by her relatives. The outside looked pretty run-down, and the "courtyard" was really just a driveway with a couch in it, but (typically for Turkish families, I learned) the inside was very nice. The only things that weren't nice were the toilet (squat toilet) and the lack of air conditioning or even fans (which won't necessarily cause paralysis, but definitely aren't good for your health).
I should get on with my day, which will be jet-laggedly short, so I'll post more stories tomorrow. Here are some pictures, though:
Me, Ayse, Elif, Elif's little sister, with Anna and Jenny (the two on my side of the table, who are staying with Elif while they take Turkish classes for the summer), and one of Ayse's 500 uncles. This one thought I was hilarious, but spoke very quickly with a Kurdish accent (Ayse's family is Kurdish), so I never really quite understood why. I thought he was pretty great too, because he owns a fantastic fish restaurant, which is where we are in this picture, on the verge of stuffing ourselves.


This is Ayse at some random cafe on the water, where we met up with a couple of her friends for tea one night. You can sort of see the bridge across the Bosporus in the background, which is the stuff driving nightmares are made of, but which is also lit up with funny changing, dancing light shows at night.






This is the only thing I ate in Turkey that I didn't like. It's their version of the stuffed baked potato, which I love in America (with cheese and broccoli and ham or bacon). In Turkey, though, they stuff it with seasoned bulgar wheat, canned corn, pickles, bologna-like sausage, ketchup, and mayonaise. I ate two polite bites and then switched to the fresh fruit and nuts in the background.

Indulgence, Part II

The indulgence continues. Not in the form of hot dogs, but I just don't have that many pictures of myself indulging. I'm not really getting things done, with the exception of Oxygen, by Andrew Miller (he occasionally uses grammar with which I disagree, and I've found four typos in his book so far, but I do generally like his style). It is lovely to read for pleasure.
Still haven't done the pound cake recipe, but I did make a pan of caramel rolls, which was both a success (I got the caramel just right, with no recipe!) and a failure (I need a better pan, and maybe a recalibrated oven).
This morning, I got up with big plans to go to the gym and clean and pack and organize and study, but had such a terrible headache that I went back to bed and stayed there, with the curtains drawn, for several hours. This may not count as an indulgence in your book, but it sure felt indulgent to me.
Tomorrow, Rob and Matt and I are headed to Nebraska. It'll be a multi-purpose trip, seeing relatives and looking for a reception site and thinking about all manner of wedding things. Also, I'm inheriting a box of cookbooks Papa purged when he had the counters redone. Do I really need more cookbooks? Probably not. But such petty details will not stop me from taking them home and installing them on the new shelves we built just for my book problem.
After we get back, I have one and a half busy days to remember all my Turkish before I go to Istanbul to see Ayse and continue to be self-indulgent, eat lots of garlicky sauces and pastries and fish, read some more, and not think about the messes and piles of work I should have dealt with before I go.
Eventually, I suppose, this indulgence thing will backfire, my laziness will be exposed, I will fail spectacularly at something important, and hopefully learn my lesson. But until that happens, I think a bowl of ice cream and a good read are brilliant ways to pass the time.