Leave the Path

The last two days have been so busy that I’ve had no time to write. I’ve even begun to dread starting because there’s so much to say. Istanbul is awesome. It’s impressive and beautiful and special, but also a little wild and scary.

We’re staying in a hotel on the Asia side of the Bosporus. Each of the last two mornings, we’ve taken a light breakfast at the hotel, walked a block or so, gotten on a ferry, crossed the water, and spent most of the day in the old part of the city.

The ferry is quite comfy. There are hundreds, or maybe thousands of people who commute this way every day, and there are people selling newspapers and teas on the boat. The crossing coincides nicely with the time it takes to finish one little cup of tea: about 15 minutes. The view is good, too, of both ancient buildings and walls, and also of the modern wonder of container shipping, huge cranes and all. We’ve taken the ferry four times now, and I’m not bored of it yet.

Our first stop was the Hagia Sofia. I’ve read accounts from the middle ages of how mystical this place was, but I figured that after seeing NYC and Notre Dame and the Braves’ stadium, a big building wouldn’t be too striking. I was wrong. Even without its original decorations, the Hagia Sofia is breathtaking. Not only is it really big (it is enormous) it also has a special sort of anonymous peacefulness that I associate with Catholic cathedrals. One of my favorite parts was the “stairs” to the second floor. There are not steps, as such, but rather a winding incline of slippery cobblestones, twisting back on itself four times. It’s like a dungeon, but it leads up into the second floor, which is even better, lighter, and more holy than the first. Even with the tourists (Australians, Japanese, English, Iranian, Orthodox priests, school groups, etc) walking around, snapping photos, there is still a sort of heavy stillness about the place. It was almost as if all of the prayers that have been said here over thousands of years have left shadows of holiness in the air. No matter what you believe, places like this that have had such profound importance for so many people have a certain power.

Maybe I should explain a little about this church. It was build by the Byzantines in the 13^th (?) century. In the middle ages, many people believed that the design was so spectacular that it could not have been conceived of by a mortal, and must have been inspired by God himself. It was, therefore, a popular destination for Christian pilgrimages. The Ottomans, when they conquered Istanbul in 1453, they did not destroy the church. They too believed that it was divinely designed, and so they made it into a mosque. Most Muslims believe that there should be no images of people or animals in a mosque, and so they covered the Christian mosaics with plaster, which was then decorated with geometric patterns and Koranic verses. (With the founding of the Republic, the building became a museum, and the plaster is being removed, but it’s going slowly.) This place has, thus, heard the prayers of millions of Christians and Muslims. It holds tombs, concealed masterpieces, and graffiti by ancient visitors. It’s a wonder of stone-work and architecture, but, for me, it is the stories and the memory of previous visitors that really makes it what it is: a fantastic reliquary of religion in the western world.

Interestingly, there are no chairs in the Hagia Sofia today. I saw people standing or squatting in corners, lost in thought. I think a fantastic addition would be a room, with chairs and also with an open carpeted area, where people who feel the need to sit and reflect or pray are welcome. I feel like this wonderful place, which has seen conflicts, but also the peaceful faith of Christians and Muslims, might hold some special potential for cooperation and understanding. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but if it did, it would be a powerful image: Christians and Muslims, atheists and believers, all considering the past and peacefully hoping for what we all really want, peaceful and happy lives.

Our next stop was the Blue Mosque. This landmark is directly opposite the Hagia Sofia, and is still a functioning mosque today. It was built by the Ottomans, who saw the Hagia Sofia as a challenge, and wanted to make something bigger. The Blue Mosque is bigger, and is cleaner and less confused. The atmosphere is different, though.

This is the first mosque I have ever entered. As we made our way to the entrance, two men, both Turkish, one an employee of the mosque and one a tourist, started yelling at each other about some imagined insult. People restrained them and shushed them (which is exactly what they wanted. They were both just posturing and didn’t want to fight.) Anyway, though, it put me on edge before we went in. Interestingly, I wasn’t asked to cover my head (most of the tourists didn’t) but I did have to wrap a long cloth around my shorts (I think this is a formality.) Everyone takes their shoes off at the door, and the inside is a big, open, carpeted room. The lighting is good and people were relaxed. It was kind of like a big living-room. It was different than a church, but nice.

This little boy is having his “sunnet” or circumcisian ceramony. For one day, little boys are dressed up like princes and paraded around and given tons of sweets so that their memories of this event aren’t all bad. I think it’s a little weird, but this little prince was a big hit with the visitors to the mosque. Every tourist in the place had a photo taken with him.

We also visited the Byzantine “Underground Cistern”. It sounds really dull, but it was actually a very interesting thing. Built by the Romans to hold water for the city, it’s underground, filled with columns and a couple of mysterious statues. Today there is only a little water and a few fish, but apparently before the walkway was built in the 1970’s, all of the tours were done in a rowboat and there was more water to accommodate. The atmosphere was dank, but clean, old, but surreal. I could definitely imagine a murder mystery ending up here, or a Harry Potter novel. The only problem was the groups of yelling kids, whose voices echoed obnoxiously in the closed space. I’d love to be there alone some time. It’d be fantastically creepy.

For lunch, we stopped at the nearby Medusa café, themed after the upside-down Medusa head in the cistern. There were plastic fruits tied to the tree branches in the courtyard, which was odd, but the service was good, the bathroom was spotless, and there was a friendly cat wandering around. Nurten, Emre, and I got a selection of vegetarian mezzes (appetizers) and they were great. This one is called “Sigara Borek” which is occasionally translated as “Cigarette Pie.” Thankfully, it’s only relation to a cigarette is in the shape, and it’s filled with cheese, rather than sweets. These were unusually good, at this restaurant.

We also did a little site-seeing and a lot of walking. We ran through the famous Capali Carsi (Covered Bazaar) and then walked some city streets with good shopping. The red-and-gold banners with the lion are because Gryffindor won the house cup…No actually, Galatasarey won the Turkish soccer tournament recently and they happen to have the same colors and symbol.

We eventually got tired of walking in the heat and the dust, and took a cab. It felt like 120 F in that “taksi” and I start sweating just thinking about it. We also rode the 19^th century Ottoman “subway” which goes underground, up a hill, using only a counterweight. The tile work in the station is impressive, and the tram worked really well given that most of it is 150 years old and original.

In the evening, Emre, Nurten and I went to visit our friend Emre from France. (People here call him Mami, and I know he hated to be called Emre#2, so I’m going to try to remember to distinguish between them, that way.) Mami’s parents live in a newer section of the Asian side of town that looks much like Ankara. His mother is also named Nurten, and his father laughs very easily in a universally appealing way. They made a fantastic classic Turkish dinner for us, with meat and stuffed peppers and other little dishes. I drank raki with Mami (my Emre is still recovering from the dentist, so he had coke). I didn’t drink much, or quickly, though, because I know it is both strong and surprisingly late-acting. A couple of Mami’s other relatives came over near the end of the meal, and joined us. They seemed like nice people, but wanted to talk about politics and religion and it seemed a little heavy for a first meeting. I also had some difficulty with language, which is frustrating when I have something that I want to say well. It was great to see the Emre’s together again, though, and I’m sure we’ll have even more catching up to do when Fiona gets here tomorrow. I also think we’ll be staying a few nights with Mami’s parents, so I’m glad that they are likeable and comfortable-type people.

Today was even longer than yesterday. It started the same way, with the breakfast and the ferry ride, but our destination was different. We spent most of the day in the Topkali Palace. This was the primary residence of the Ottoman sultans. Most of the finery was saved and the grounds were turned into a huge museum. I can see why the sultans picked this spot. It’s high above the Bosporus, in a protected location, but also has an incredible view.

There were impressive displays of shiny or fancy things. Thousands of antique china plates. Embroidered silk robes. Jewelry sent from every European country. A big box of loose emeralds. Ceremonial armor. And a sailboat made entirely of silver.

The buildings themselves were interesting as well, rich with architectural detail and decoration (tons of painted tiles.) Many of them bore the sultan’s special seal, which varies slightly for each sultan and indicates who commissioned the building. These seals were also on money and all official documents; I think they’re really neat.

There were lots of lovely buildings, including the Harem, which, it seams, has been blown out of proportion by the imaginations of foreigners. All of the ceilings were painted in incredible motifs, and there are thousands of absolutely gorgeous tiles. I hate that the sultans put the wealth of their empire here, rather than benefiting the populous, but some of the work is absolutely stunning. The Ottomans, for all of their faults, had some truly masterful craftsmen.

After hours at the palace, we stopped by the archeology museum next door. This museum has some Egyptian relics brought back by the warriors that conquered that land, which were unexpected and interesting. Other than that, though, it was like a smaller version of the museum in Ankara. I did get a picture of me pretending to be a cute lion, though. And I got yelled at for climbing into a replica of the Trojan horse. (It’s next to the kids’ area, doesn’t have a sign or a rope of any kind, and has a staircase that’s obviously been used hundreds of times. What would you think?)

While we were there, we saw the tomb of Alexander the Great. I didn’t take a picture of that, unfortunately, but this image is from another tomb from about 400 BC, and I really like the emotions on the faces of the mourning women. They’re honest without being cartoon-like. I really don’t think that human figure carving in stone can top this era for realism.

We were too tired to see the whole museum, so we stopped for tea in the garden of the museum. Once again, it’s filled with Roman stuff, and in fact, some of the miscellaneous capitals for the columns are being used as tables. We got all four teas for 2 lira (a bargain even here) and they gave me this awesome tea tray to carry them to the table (tea-guys in the street have these and twirl them over their heads. I didn’t try it.)

After all of that excitement, we made our way slowly back to the hotel, had a little rest, and then went to dinner with some of Emre’s father’s relatives. Our guide didn’t remember the best route and we misplaced ourselves in one of the poorer neighborhoods in town. It wasn’t my favorite dinner of the trip, in part because whatever I’m allergic to is very common in the area where we visited. We also stayed later than I liked, and I was confused and bored and tired, so I wasn’t in a great mood when we made it back. As of now, I’m exhausted and having trouble keeping my eyes open. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

This morning we set out for Istanbul. Here’s an excerpt from my journal, written along the way: “We’re in the car, on the way to Istanbul. There was some conflict about whether Emre’s father would join us, but in the end he did, so we’re four, setting off across the Anatolian plateau. Even now, miles outside of Ankara, huge apartment buildings in neat rows and files are scattered to either side of the road. They’re huge concrete structures with friendly, pastel veneers. Today, they are new, “modern” and desirable. But tomorrow? Are they well constructed? Will people want to live here? Are these the ghettos of tomorrow’s Turkey?

So, we’re going to Istanbul (not Constantinople). The more I learn about this city, the more it swells in my imagination. The names Istanbul, Constantinople, Byzantine, all have a faint scent of spice and smoke and mystical Eastern-ness. Since I’ve started noticing, I see references to it in the oddest places. I know, however, from meeting Istanbulites, that it is, in fact, a vibrant, modern place today.

I can’t wait to see it, the grandeur and the splendor, the east and the west, the luxury and the filth, the sea and the sky, the old and the new. I wonder if it will live up to my expectations.”

We went through the sequence of landscapes, again: City, outskirts, plains, pine trees, green mountains, farm land, and this time we went all the way to the western shore.

We stopped for lunch in the green hills, and I had a “hamburger” that was actually a kofte (Turkish meatball) on a fried bread. I like kofte, but it wasn’t what I was expecting, so I was disappointed. The ayran fountain was kind of neat, though. This must be how shops make bubbly ayran.

I slept a little bit after the meal, but I woke up to take this photo of the ground-zero of the 1996 earthquake. Notice that the apartment buildings are new and fine, but in the foreground, with the cow, is a bunch of concrete rubble. This is what’s left of a bunch of buildings that crumbled in the quake. Thousands of people died in this catastrophe, and many homes and businesses were completely destroyed. Life goes on, though, and in another 10 years, the rubble will be covered with grass and cow poo, and it will join the relics of civilizations long ago: just a part of the ground.

Our first stop in Istanbul was to visit Ali’s brother, who owns a flower shop. They make the big displays that have stands. I’d only seen these at funerals in the states, but they’re commonly sent to weddings and graduation ceremonies, here. It was really hot when we got to the office, and I was kind of confused because I had misunderstood where we were going. The brother seemed like an okay guy, he’s younger than Ali and told lots of jokes. He spoke quickly in Turkish, though, and, despite the best efforts of everyone around to make me comfortable, I started to get bored and tired after the first hour or so of “catching up” in a foreign language. I spent a lot of time looking at the wall in the office. The Elvis-like photo is the uncle, 40 years ago. Behind the TV antenna is the requisite Ataturk photo, but this one shows a seated, older man. He seems human, unlike the 1984-style portraits that stare.

After the family visit, we popped by the hotel, and then went out for a walk. We’re staying on the Asia side of the Bosporus, and when we walked along the shore, we could see all of the great monuments in the distance. One of the most unusual things I’ve seen so far is the feral animals. The street dogs are all these big, lazy creatures that think they own the place. In a way, they do. Feral dogs have been a part of this city since before the Turks arrived in the 16^th century, and many of these dogs may be descended from those dogs who were here hundreds of years ago. They seem to know this. They aren’t violent at all towards people (and in fact they even ignore domestic dogs) and they sleep confidently on medians, sidewalks, parking lots. They’ve all got these big, black, intelligent eyes, and they just seem to be watching the hustle of everything around them, like fuzzy aliens amusedly co-existing with the society around them. The city of Istanbul, for a very long time, tried to poison the dogs, to get rid of the mess and garbage-eating, but they’ve given up in recent years. Now you can see many of the dogs with bright ear-tags, a sign that they’ve been fixed and vaccinated and left to their wild habitat: the streets of the city.

We stopped for bit, and I had an ice-cream (these are called Cornetto’s, and I like them very much, there’s a ribbon of caramel in the middle.) We climbed up on some boulders by the water (each one was a meter high) and watched the sun set. The colors were incredible, and the sun, as it set, was the same size and shape as the caps of the mosques, as if the sun itself were just one more dome on the horizon, a natural part of the sky-line of the city.

We walked back to the hotel in twilight, and went up to the roof-top for dinner in the restaurant. I had a Turkish classic: Balik (fish) and Raki (anise-flavored spirits.) I don’t usually like fish, but the bass, despite having the head, had a mild flavor and it was very pleasant with the strong drink and the sides of vegetables and melon. From the window next to us, we could see the lights of the famous sites: Hagia Sofia, the blue mosque, the 19^th century German-designed train station, the pier, and the boats. Tonight there were also fire-works, in celebration of the anniversary of Sultan Mehmet II taking the city from the Byzantines 553 years ago. It was very nice, and we stayed in the restaurant a long time, talking about the city, and history, and our plans for tomorrow. My first impression of the city may have been “crowded and dirty,” but the sunset more than made up for it. I’m getting the impression that the city here, in many ways, is more relaxed than other cities its size. There’s a little bit less control, and a little bit more of an attitude that the city itself is living. It was here before the Turks, it has its moods and shifts and guardian dogs, and likely the city will be here long after I’m gone, as vibrant as it is today.

Emre had his fourth wisdom tooth removed yesterday morning. Apparently it was a big ordeal. The tooth roots were long and wrapped around other things. It took several hours to get it all out; so long, in fact, that the anesthetic ran out and he says he could feel every bit of the stitches. He came home in a surprisingly pleasant mood, though, and has been perkier and more jovial that he was last week. Must be a good dentist. If you look closely at the photo, the left side of his chin is a little bigger than the right. The swelling isn’t too bad, though, and it seems to be healing nicely.

We’d considered leaving for Istanbul, but Emre would have to drive, and I didn’t want to push him. Instead, we decided to do an outing with Emre’s Aunt and cousins (Nuran, Efser, and Ugur). I’m using the term “we” loosely, here. Somehow I completely missed the deciding phase and didn’t realize we were going until Emre said “Hey, get dressed, we’re leaving soon.” I really like planning, or at least knowing what the plan is. I was a little annoyed, at first, that I had no idea what was going on (they’d discussed it at breakfast, but in Turkish and I apparently hadn’t paid attention.) I got over it, though, and it was a good trip.

The town we visited was only an hour or so outside of Ankara. It’s called Beypazari, which I can spell because it’s written on all of the sparkling-water bottles I’ve seen . (I think it’s bottled there, but I didn’t see any proof.) It is kind of a neat little town, similar to Safranbolu, but not as complete or historic. They did have several special things that I had never seen before.

One was this bread thing. It was being freshly baked at several shops and smelled incredibly scrumptious. The aroma was cinnamon-like, so I figured it was something sweet. It’s not, though. It does have a little cinnamon, but it’s a savory snack, and while they’re good hot, they’re only marginal once they cool.

Another local specialty is carrots. We had carrot juice, and shopkeepers advertised carrot candies and dried carrot products. We also tried the carrot ice cream, and as you can see from the photo, it wasn’t unusually impressive. Apparently these carrots grow in sand (?) and beyond that, I never figured out why they’re special or associated with this town. They were everywhere, though, like cartoon-rabbit heaven.

The older women in this town have a style that I have seen no where else. Typically, they wear loose pant and shirt, with a table-cloth-sized scarf draped over the head and shoulders. From behind, the silhouette is unflatteringly like that of penguin. The scarves they use are lovely, however, with classic Turkish patterns printed on a light cotton broadcloth. They seem very practical in such a dusty, sunny, warm place.

Aside from the scarves and the carrots, the other major sale idem in the streets was beans. The dried beans were in big barrels or sacks outside of little grocery shops, with an old-fashioned scale. Nuren bought a kilo or so from one place. There were a dozen or more bean stores in the town, though, so someone must be buying much more to keep them in business.

At one point, we stopped for tea in a rustic little café. Efser got an “ayran,” which is a common Turkish yogurt drink. It’s made from yogurt, water, and salt. (The same thing is called “lhassi” in India, and I like it.) Usually it just comes in a glass, like milk. This one was really fancy, though. It came in a copper stein, with a mound of frothy bubbles on top. The tea was good, but I wish I’d gotten one of those.

At the same place, a couple women made a crepe-like snack food (unfortunately I don’t remember the name) in an open oven. The younger people in the photo are the waitstaff Like many places, they had snazzy uniforms. The older women make the flat crepe things really fast, using a simple wooden stick. It’s pretty neat to watch.

We also visited the local “museum.” It was another re-furbished Ottoman house, but newer and less impressive than the one at Safranbolu. It did have shoe-booties (they’re called “gulosh” by the way, which I’m sure is from the word “goulashes”.). Most of the antiques were early-20^th century, and not much different from the collection at Grandma and Grandpas. It was kind of interesting to see another Ottoman house layout, but not spectacular.

All together, we spent a few hours walking in the streets, wandering around and eating good things. We saw quite a few other weekenders from Ankara, and many locals. I also heard one group speaking German. It was pleasant, relaxing, and tasty. And I think I got my beta-carotene fix for the next week or so.

After our tour of the town, we went up to a panoramic vantage point. There is a line of rock pushed up at an angle to make a distinctive ridge, jutting up between the red-roofed houses. The ridge is fancifully called the “Dragon’s Backbone.” I’ve seen quite a few interesting rock formations in the last few weeks, though, so I had more fun watching the people. There was one very bossy little girl of three years or so, a really cute lab puppy, and these three older ladies on an outing. The weather was really good today, and everyone seemed really content to just be outside.

A little farther down the road, we stopped at this natural hot spring. The Turkish government has covered the spring and put a big pipe in it to collect the water, which then runs into a series of brightly colored mud puddles. The water really is hot, and some people were saying that it cures digestive problems, but I don’t think I’d try it.

We stuck around a while, looked around. It was sort of neat, and with a little work, it could be a good place for a spa, like the “Bains” in France. Like so many other places I’ve seen, this one was rich with unrealized potential.

Nearby is an empty stretch of scrub, with a big grooved rock thing on top. This site is supposedly the “second Ephesus.” Ugur explained that the irrigation ditch in the foreground is very old, and that under the dirt, here, there is a compete Roman town waiting to be excavated. We could see a little piece that had been started, with an obvious Roman arch, and it seems that he is correct. There could also be earlier settlements under the Roman town, and it seems likely, as a hilltop with a spring is a good site in this arid land. At the moment, though, it’s waiting for archeologists and the visitors to the hot spring don’t seem to take much interest. The whole of Anatolia seems to be filled with places like this, where something ancient has been accidentally forgotten, covered up, lost. Who knows how many relics of human pre-history lie buried under derelict fields. There are many treasure hunters in the country, despite the efforts of the government to keep untrained hands away from important antiquities.

Tomorrow we’re leaving for Istanbul: Emre, Nurten, and me. We’re driving but we’re not taking more than one suitcase each. Nurten will visit museums with us for a few days, and then head home. Emre and I will meet up with our friends Emre#2 and Fiona, and then the four of us will drive down the coast to Antalya and Olympos. I must say, leaving Ankara has kind of snuck up on me. Of course I’m enthusiastic to go, but it seems like just yesterday that I got here, and I’m just now getting comfortable in Ankara. It’ll be good, I’m sure. I’ll see new things, have new subjects to write about. I don’t know how often I’ll find internet access, but I will make a sincere effort to post something every few days.

This morning, while Emre was at the dentist, Nurten, Ali and I went across the city to the one big tourist site in Ankara. We didn’t have the car, so we took the bus, and then a taxi. We moved from the new residential areas, to the shiny shopping areas, to the older, crowded shopping areas, to the few really old, historic buildings, then up the citadel to the old castle. The castle is 15^th century, and it’s in ruins. People have built poorly-constructed houses on top of it, and there’s not really anything interesting or historically important about it. The Ottoman covered market, however, built about the same time, has been converted into one of the best museums in the world: the Anatolian Civilizations Museum.

This museum chronicals the progression of human civilization, from the Neolithic age (more than 6000 years BC) through the Roman and Byzantine empires that preceded the Ottomans. The pieces are absolutely wonderful, well preserved, attractively arranged. There’s dozens of those fat mother goddess statues that date back to the first organized cities.

There’s something very powerful about encountering a piece of art from 400 or 500 generations ago. These pieces are “primitive” in some senses, but they show an obvious intelligence and a distinctly human spirit. It’s awe-inspiring to think that 8000 years ago, or more, before metal tools existed or long-distance travel was feasible, people were people and they were so very much like us living today. I would like to know more about who made specific pieces, and why. Did people make them out of boredom or for some specific purpose? Were they ritual objects? Or did rich Neolithic housewives have little shelves with special vases that they talked about when their friends came over to help skin deer? “Oh yes, Uga gave me that for the five winter celebration of our first son. Isn’t it nice?” I think it’s really easy to think of “primitive” civilizations living hand-to-mouth, on the cusp of survival, always afraid of the next jaguar attack, engaging in strange prayers in an attempt to gain control over a terrifyingly wild world. But seeing these intricate and carefully rendered little statues and delicate vases, I am reminded that they probably had many slow, easy times. And they observed and appreciated their surroundings in the way that we do today. They were entirely human, and their lives may have been as rich and fulfilling as ours.

Another case is filled with little animals designed as ritualistic cups (rhytons) and another has tiny, intricate, cuneiform messages incised in clay, with terra cotta envelopes: some of the first ever surviving written words. Writing was brought to Anatolia by the Assyrians (from modern-day Iran) around 2000 BC. The tablets have been deciphered and most of them are commercial or political records. Written language is, undoubtably, one of the most influential traits of a civilization. Writing has the power to link ideas directly from one generation to another; to let ideas that have passed out of active thought be rediscovered and reanalyzed. Because of writing, we can enjoy the genius of Shakespeare, or Plato, or Newton, and new thinkers can learn from teachers dead hundreds of years. And yet, at its origin, it was a tool for making and managing wealth. I guess I should be grateful to the first guy who thought to make a written record of how many gold pieces he was owed for an ox, but it’s unpleasant to think that all of the good things that I associate with writing have their origins in something so practical, commercial, and potentially selfish.

Some of my absolute favorite objects in the museum are from the Hittites and New-Hittites, whose oldest works are something like 1800 BC. They had a really “cute” way of portraying people and animals, with big eyes and heads, and a slight smile.

There’s definitely an Egyptian influence, and many elements associated with Ancient “Greek” art, including certain shapes and patterns and mythical beasts, actually show up here, a thousand years before the classic age of Greece.

The museum also has incredible works by the Phrygians and Urartians, who refined carving techniques and made works very similar to those of the early eastern Greeks. Then there are works by Ionian Greeks, and then Romans. The progression is fascinating, and I feel I barely know where to begin.

Emre’s favorite thing in the museum is a reconstructed burial site of a Roman (I think) noble, with a golden wreath and many grave offerings. I think the skeleton is real.

The gardens around the museum are nice, as well. Interestingly, they put authentic Roman statues and carvings outdoors. In Europe, the Romans are “ancient” and anything Roman gets its own museum. Here, though, they’re relatively new, and Byzantine Roman stuff is common as dirt. So some of the Roman stuff goes in the garden.

After the trip to the museum, Emre met up with us, and we went to one of my other favorite places in Ankara, the bean restaurant.

“Husrev” as it is actually named, was founded in 1928 (very shortly after Ankara became the capital of the Republic, so it’s probably one of the oldest continuously-operated restaurants in town). They serve several common Turkish restaurant foods, including meat balls and chicken, but their specialty is the beans. They have a special farm somewhere which grows superior quality beans which are then slow-cooked in a special way to make them extra-delicious.

The funny thing about this place, though, is that it’s not exactly what you’d expect from a restaurant specializing in beans. Beans are, in Turkey, like everywhere else in the world, a low-brow food; not exactly something to boast about. This place, however, is chic. A guy in a uniform comes out to open the door of your car. There’s a coat-check in the entrance foyer. Everything on the table has the name of the restaurant printed on it, as do the tablecloths and the uniforms of the waitstaff (though if you look closely, some of them have the opening date misprinted.) They also have hundreds of photos of famous Turks eating here, mostly politicians, but also some movie stars.

I think that the restaurant was probably renovated in the 60’s, and has kept the same 60’s luxury-style atmosphere. It’s awesome. Like a fine antique or a good pair of vintage jeans, the surface is a little dusty, but it has obviously stood the test of time, a testament to its good design. The area around it is not so great. It’s seen some wear, and new things have come and gone. Even on the outside, this place doesn’t seem very special. Secretly, though, it’s a jewel of old-fashioned luxury and excellent beans.

After the late lunch, we found Volkan and Hanzade and started getting dolled up to crash a wedding. (The bride and groom are close friends of Volkan and Hanzade’s from university, and they naturally had an invitation. Emre knew them as well, and we made sure that it was okay for us to come, so, it wasn’t actually crashing at all.)

The wedding wasn’t, in essence, so much different from other weddings I’ve attended. The bride was lovely, everyone was happy and dancing, there was a band and a cake, and a photographer. The big difference between Turkish and American weddings is that there is no church element in the former. The actual vows are said in the same place as the reception, and they take all of about 10 minutes. A public official comes and asks both the bride and groom if they want to get married. They each say “yes,” and then the bride, groom, and witnesses sign a book. Then the official skips off to the next wedding and the guests kiss the bride, eat, drink, dance, and gossip. They also give the bride gold bracelets and pins, as a sort of insurance plan for her future finances.

This particular wedding was attended by quite a few young professional friends of the couple, as well as their families. It was also an evening event, with dinner, and so many ladies chose to wear cocktail dresses. They looked fabulous. There was also lots of slow, elegant, movie-style smoking. I got this creeping sensation, the first time someone blew lazy smoke rings over the crowd of fashionably dressed foreigners, of being in a Sean Connery-era James Bond film. Unfortunately, though, I didn’t encounter any futuristic gadgets or fancy sports cars, and fortunately, there were no fights or explosions.

We did dance. The band played a mix of classic rock and dance songs (including “The Twist” and “Blue Suede Shoes”) and some more traditional Turkish songs that have special group dances. There were also a few Latin dance songs, and Emre and I got a chance to make good on that Salsa class we took earlier this year.

I enjoyed getting a chance to meet people at our table, and the next, all friends of Hanzade and Volkan’s from University. Most of them spoke excellent English, and were very interesting in conversation. One man is working in urban design (not so much planning as renewal and renovation) and, after my day in the old parts of town, I was very happy to learn that the city is at least thinking about doing something to improve them. After the lights came on at the wedding and the caterers started frowning at us, we all left for a soup shop, which is apparently a very normal thing to do late at night in Ankara.

The place was surprisingly busy, and there was a Turkish movie star at the next table. (Yilmaz Erdogan from the Vizontele movies, which I saw in France.) It was an enjoyable end to a long day.

This morning I got up late. Emre’s at the dentist getting his last wisdom tooth extracted. (Last trip, we think.) Before he left, he took this picture of me, working on the computer in my pajamas, as per usual.

Sometime in the next few days, we’re leaving for the west, for Istanbul and possibly some of the historical coastal towns before we meet up with Emre and Fiona. Nurten is likely going to come along, which will be nice.

We’ve been trapped on the island for over a month now. The pregnant girl has had her baby. People keep getting into fights, like every day, and several people have died under mysterious circumstances. We’ve started farming so the food will be okay but there are frequent injuries and the antibiotics are running out…. No, wait… That didn’t happen to me. It’s the episode of Lost we just watched. I’m in Turkey, still, and thankfully no one has died.

All in all, the last few days have been good. Something has recently “clicked” with my Turkish, and I’m understanding much better all of the sudden. I don’t speak so well, but at least I know more of what’s going on. I bet it’s pretty entertaining for strangers here in Ankara to hear me talk. My accent is pretty good (I’ve been hearing Turkish for 3 years now) but my grammar is not all that great. My vocabulary is small, but philosophical words are the same as French and English, so sometimes I know those. The result is that I’ve moved past the 2-year-old language, and now I probably sound like Master Yoda. Very few foreigners learn any Turkish, though, so I’m getting more gratitude than grief about it.

I think that Turkish is a much simpler language than English, and in many ways it makes much more sense. First of all, the spelling is phonetic, so I can learn to write a word and also know how to say it. Secondly, the verbs are regular and the same suffixes are almost always used for the same things, so it’s easy to figure out how to use a word, or to make new words from old ones. Thirdly, there aren’t as many antiquated or very special words (exactly how many English words are there for baby animals?) so I can usually figure things out from context if I have enough time. And once I know a word, I find dozens of other places to use it. Some people have weird accents, and sometimes I can’t figure it out, but it’s getting better, and I’ve got a few translators around.

Things are going well in other ways, as well. My stomach is doing much better now, since I cut back on the tea and avoided the spices for a couple days. Some stupid tree has started producing something that I’m allergic to, though, so I sneeze on the bus. I think it’s the tree with the cotton-like stuff, which suddenly started to fall a couple of days ago and now fills up the gutters like dirty snow. I’m glad to see green in a city, but I really hate these trees. It’s also gotten warmer in the last few days, so much so that it’s uncomfortable to be outside in the middle of the day.

Not that there’s really much to do outside in Ankara, I’m finding. Emre and I have done a lot of shopping the last couple of days. I found a new pair of shoes (turquoise suede flats) and a bathing suit (I went with the one-piece, not the itty-bitty kind) and a couple of new shirts (the reddish one in the photos is new.) Emre finally found some sunglasses and a few new pants (his old favorite, which has been worn hundreds of times, threw in the towel the other day and developed three big holes at once.) We’ve been shopping in the shiny parts of town, mostly. I have some complaints about malls, especially the kind that are outside of town and you have to drive to (Southpoint) but the ones here are within walking distance of the main streets, have underground parking, and also run buses to local neighborhoods. It’s actually a pleasant and efficient use of limited space. Many of the stores are exactly the same as their counterparts in the states, but I’ve tried to get things that are special or at least made here.

We did go to a park yesterday. It’s in the middle of town, so we walk through it almost ever day, actually, but this time I took pictures. It’s called “Swan Park” but actually the main attraction is ducks. The story is that the swans were replaced with the ducks after someone killed and ate a swan. I don’t know if it’s true, though. Swans are huge and ill-tempered, and I wouldn’t want them in a small park in the middle of the city.

The white ducks are called “Peking Ducks” and they’re apparently a special Chinese breed (and an unusually tasty one at that, so I’m told.)  The original white Peking ducks in Turkey were a gift from the Chinese embassy, many years ago.

They’re kind of pretty.  Some of them have interbred with normal, grey-brown ducks and the offspring are really weird and asymmetric, with both white and dark patches.  They look like peices of two different animals, sewn together haphazardly.

In their park, the ducks have a special little house surrounded by water. It’s neat, but people feed them there, and tons of pigeons come for the food, and the smell is horrible on hot days.

I kind of wonder about these ducks. They run loose in the park, which borders one of the busiest streets in the city. Do they ever run away? Can they fly? (Hakan says this kind of duck is flightless. Maybe so, but I think they probably clip the wings.) Is it someone’s job to sit around and make sure that the ducks don’t go too far? Do the ducks have vets and vaccinations and stuff? What about bird flu? How bad would it have to get before the ducks are evacuated or disposed of? I’d like to say something deep about how this reflects on the culture of the nation, but I can’t think of anything. They’re delicious, interesting-looking animals in a stinky little park in the middle of town. I’ll leave the analogies open.

On the way home from the shopping and the park, I saw my second and third accidents of the trip, today. The first was a couple of days ago, as we were driving back from Volkan and Hanzade’s. We saw a little car with a huge piece of metal in one side, illegally parked with the blinkers on and no one around. We drove a little farther, and saw a car that had hit a pole head-on, right between the front seats, and another bumped-up car to one side. When we got there, there were several police cars and no injured people or ambulances, so it must have been a while. I hope everyone was okay. Today, we saw two minor accidents, with the irate drivers standing by.

So far (knock on wood) Emre’s cautious driving and a little good luck has kept us safe. I’m still a little nervous in traffic, though.

It makes me frustrated that people don’t use better judgment about their driving. I’m also a little concerned about the smoking here. We’ve had tea at many restaurants and cafes, and I have not seen a single non-smoking area. In the mall food-court, the air is literally hazy from all of the smoke. Older people smoke. Kids (well, high-schoolers) smoke. Men smoke, women smoke. Conservative and liberal people smoke. It’s everywhere, it’s imbedded in the culture. If anything, smoking seems to be becoming more popular. I think it’s a national health crisis in the works. Already, cancer rates are pretty high in Turks, and probably growing. And I’d hate to imagine having a breathing difficulty, because you absolutely cannot get away from the smoke. People smoke in toilets, elavators, restaurants, hotel rooms, buses, etc. Emre has done amazingly well, though. He stopped smoking a year and a half ago, and it was tough for him to refuse every cigarette. I don’t think he’s had one since he’s been here, though, which must take a lot of will power. In fact, he keeps commenting on how difficult it is to breath in small places with several people smoking, so maybe he’s done with cigarettes for good. I’m proud of him for being able to make such a tough life change.

We have, however, eaten a lot of ice cream. Turkish ice cream is awesome. The strawberry actually has crushed strawberry worked into the cream, rather than whole, slimy chunks. It’s kind of stretchy, which is odd, but fun to eat. And it comes in strange, horizontal layers stacked on top of the cone.

There’s a chain called Mado which is an ice-cream parlor and tea room. It’s a little pricy, but there are at least 5 in Ankara, and they are always busy. This one is next to the Swan Park, and when I was photographing the ice cream, the server guy really wanted to be in the photo, so here’s a picture of my favorite Mado, with the ice cream guy.

That’s all for now. Tomorrow we’re going to a museum and also to the wedding of one of Volkan and Hanzade’s classmates from college.

(P.S. I hear that several people are actually keeping up with this travelogue, and I’m thrilled! If you ever catch a mistake, or feel the need to add to something, you’re welcome to leave a comment using the link below.)