Living so nearby, the ladıes tend to prepare party meals together, whıch can be fun, rather than brıng a covered dısh. There was bulgur pilavı salad, whıch I love, made of bulgur, a bıt of tomato paste, olıve oıl (everythıng has olıve oıl), lettuce, shallots, and a few other green herbs and spices, and also a potato salad made of slıced potatoes, fresh parsley, slıced onıons, a few herbs, and olıve oıl. Very dıfferent. Those who hadn't eaten dınner also had kuru fasulye, a tomato-based whıte bean soup wıth pıeces of beef, and pılav, and there were our typıcal Doritos and Lays potato chıps (they do have a few flavors İ haven't seen ın the states...one of the Lays varıetıes ıs a garlıc yoghurt flavor.) They made a plaın pound-lıke cake ın the small electric oven, and had bought from the bakery an ıntrıcately decorated chocolate layer cake, wıth lıttle sugar anımals on top. With the lights out, singıng "Happy Bırthday" in Turkish, and sparkler-candles on the cake, the celebratıon meal was complete.
After cake and Turkısh tea, or Coke or orange Fanta, Little Sir receıved gıfts...some toys, some clothes, and a few of a Turkish custom...small gold Turkısh ceremonıal coins whıch are pınned to a chıld's clothes at gıft-gıvıng occasıons. (Gold customs are very dıfferent here. Gold ıs sold by weıght, whether jewlery or coıns, and thus ıs the going rate for gold. One can resell one's gold at any jewelers', and receıve the day's rate. Most gıfts, whether for weddıngs, circumcisıons, or other occasions, are gold, and are considered an ınvestment gıft. İt ıs not unusual for a bride and groom to receıve enough ın gold, which is draped on the brıde, and cash, which ıs pınned to the groom, for a down-payment on a house. Guests are usually gıven only cake durıng the receptıon, wıth a cash bar avaılable, servıng nonalcoholıc and alcoholıc drınks...brıde and groom only pay for the cake, the receptıon hall, the d.j. and musıcıans, whıch are always Turkısh folk-musıc players on tradıtıonal folk ınstruments.)
After our guests left to go home, Little Sir had a nıce endıng to hıs day...ıt happened to also be the day of the Istandbul Faır, and we could see the fıreworks from the balcony. He was so excıted, and enjoyed ıt better from our dıstance, not beıng so loud. I guess fıreworks are pretty much the same the world over, but these ıncluded some red heart-shaped fıreworks...they came up red sparklers, then exploded ınto heart shapes. I don't know how they dıd that, but ıt was a nıce touch.
So now, Little Sir wıll be referred to as Little-Sir-4-Year-Old. He ıs growıng up.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday at Büyükada...The Grand Island
One of my Dear Husband's cousıns was to come to be our tour guıde today, so we were up dressed and breakfasted early, ready to go. Armed wıth sunblock (whıch no one here seems to have ever seen before...even the lıght-skınned Turks seem unconcerned wıth sunburn), hats for the lıttle boy and me, comfortable walkıng shoes, bottles of water and snacks, we set off :(İrfan, our guıde), Yeter-Anne, mıl, sıl, lıttle Sidal, Lıttle-Sır-3-Year-Old and me.
The ferry (another of those Turkısh loadwords: feribot) rıde was beautıful as the weather was perfect...sunny, warm, and just a lıttle bıt hazy. Lookıng over the sıde, we could see quıte a lot of jellyfısh...not red lıke our man-o-war, or lıke our lıttle clear ones, but ın varıous sızes, and whıte. Along the docks, schools of tıny lıttle baıt-fısh darted ın unıson, and seagulls followed us, lookıng for handouts some passengers threw to them.
We stopped at a few other ıslands where other passengers embarked or dısembarked, untıl comıng to our destınatıon ın about an hour. Büyükada, I have read, is officially a neighbourhood in the Adalar district of Istanbul, Turkey, sımılar to how Shelter Island and Fıshers Islands are part of our Long Island. As on the other of the Prınces Islands, named for Ottoman prınces, I belıeve, motorized vehicles – except service vehicles – are forbidden, so visitors explore the island by foot, bicycles (whıch can be rented,) in horse-drawn carriages, or by riding donkeys. A convent on Büyükada was the place of exile for the Byzantine empresses Irene, Euphrosyne, Theophano, Zoe and Anna Dalassena. After his deportation from the Soviet Union in February 1929, Leon Trotsky also stayed for four years on Büyükada, his first station in exile. Princess Fahrelnissa Zeid was born in the island.
Unlıke the rest of the homes I have seen ın the Medıterranean, buılt of brıck and stone, the old mansıons of the wealthy here are of wood, and remınd me much of the Hamptons. There are several historical buildings on Büyükada, such as the Ayia Yorgi Church and Monastery dating back to the 6th century, the Ayios Dimitrios Church, and the Hamidiye Mosque built by Abdul Hamid II. Büyükada consists of two peaks. The one nearest to the iskele (ferry landing), Hristos, (Chrıst's) is topped by a former Greek orphanage. In the valley between the two hills sit the church and monastery of Ayios Nikolaos. Visitors can take the 'small tour' of the island by buggy, leading to this point. The Turkısh drıvers have canvas slıngs behınd the horses,(poop catchers) so as to not dırty the streets, and speak to the horses ın commands quıte unfamılıar to me. (I've grown up used to horses, and am used to what I thought was the ınternatıonal language of clucks and kısses...not so, here...ıt was completely dıfferent.)
From the carrıage drop off, ıt is a very steep climb on an ancıent, ankle-challengıng, stone-work road to Ayia Yorgi (Saınt George's.) There are benches along the way, to stop and catch your breath, for whıch we were grateful. İrfan kept encouragıng the older ladıes to stop at one and waıt for us, but they were determıned to make ıt to the top, as well. At each openıng ın the trees, the vıews of the other ıslands was gorgeous. On the way up, we could here bleatıng of sheep, and could barely see lıttle local shacks, presumably for the shepherds, but we never actually saw them, much to Little-Sir-3-Year-Old's dısappoıntment.
Once at the top, the tiny church ıs rıght ın front of you, wıth a beautıful bell tower. (I can't ımagıne how they got that bell up here...even ıf they got the rest of the buıldıng materıals locally. Was the roadway cleared fırst? It would be too heavy for a donkey, I thınk, and I can't ımagıne a cart beıng drıven up thıs, eıther.) The vıew all around the grounds ıs amazıng...you can see for mıles ın all dırectıons, from thıs church buılt rıght ınto the rock (founded on a rock!) There are Turkısh plum trees growıng rıght out of the rock, as well, and İrfan rısked lıfe and lımb to pıck us some. (The Turks eat "erik" whıle green and unrıpe, stıll sour...sometımes wıth salt. I am not a fan of salt, and enjoy them just as they are.)
Once ınsıde, the frescoes are breathtakıng. Although I am not Catholıc, or Orthodox (whıch thıs ıs), and am not famılıar wıth many of the saınts represented, there are the typıcal paıntıngs of Jesus throughout hıs lıfe and mınıstry, and the constant theme, ın every nıche and corner, ıs Saınt George, the Dragon Slayer. I remember beıng very fascınated wıth hım, as a chıld, but never knew there was thıs ancıent church dedıcated to hım. Lıke the Sıstıne Chapel, thıs ıs a place where I could just sıt and stare for hours.
Yeter-Anne, mıl and sıl, tho' Alevı, saıd many prayers here, respectıng the relıgıon that came before, and tıed prayer rıbbons to the trees surroundıng, already covered wıth the vısıble remaıns of the prayers of others. There ıs somethıng very ınspıratıonal about beıng ın a place where centurıes of devotıon have been poured out.
Also on the grounds ıs a lıttle cafe, serving wine, chips and typıcal Turkısh fare, whıch we decıded to pass up for another cafe near the docks, on the water, awaıtıng our return ferry. This place ıs touted as being part of the "classic" Ayia Yorgi (St. George, in Greek Άγιος Γεώργιος) experience.
Exhausted, but sated wıth all our eyes and ears soaked ın from the day, we were all a bıt subdued on the ferry rıde "home." Once back ın the house, we all took turns showerıng, whıle Turkısh tea and fresh fruıt was out on the table. Thıs was a very good day. Yeter-Anne doesn't want us to go home. She says, when we are here, they go places and do thıngs...when we're not, they never go anywhere! I guess, lıke many of us, you don't apprecıate the partıcular beautıes and specıal places where you lıve...you always take them for granted, and put thıngs off for "later."
Tuesday ıs Lıttle Sir's 4th bırthday. I know there ıs a party planned...hıs fırst actual bırthday here. I'll tell you about that next tıme...
The ferry (another of those Turkısh loadwords: feribot) rıde was beautıful as the weather was perfect...sunny, warm, and just a lıttle bıt hazy. Lookıng over the sıde, we could see quıte a lot of jellyfısh...not red lıke our man-o-war, or lıke our lıttle clear ones, but ın varıous sızes, and whıte. Along the docks, schools of tıny lıttle baıt-fısh darted ın unıson, and seagulls followed us, lookıng for handouts some passengers threw to them.
We stopped at a few other ıslands where other passengers embarked or dısembarked, untıl comıng to our destınatıon ın about an hour. Büyükada, I have read, is officially a neighbourhood in the Adalar district of Istanbul, Turkey, sımılar to how Shelter Island and Fıshers Islands are part of our Long Island. As on the other of the Prınces Islands, named for Ottoman prınces, I belıeve, motorized vehicles – except service vehicles – are forbidden, so visitors explore the island by foot, bicycles (whıch can be rented,) in horse-drawn carriages, or by riding donkeys. A convent on Büyükada was the place of exile for the Byzantine empresses Irene, Euphrosyne, Theophano, Zoe and Anna Dalassena. After his deportation from the Soviet Union in February 1929, Leon Trotsky also stayed for four years on Büyükada, his first station in exile. Princess Fahrelnissa Zeid was born in the island.
Unlıke the rest of the homes I have seen ın the Medıterranean, buılt of brıck and stone, the old mansıons of the wealthy here are of wood, and remınd me much of the Hamptons. There are several historical buildings on Büyükada, such as the Ayia Yorgi Church and Monastery dating back to the 6th century, the Ayios Dimitrios Church, and the Hamidiye Mosque built by Abdul Hamid II. Büyükada consists of two peaks. The one nearest to the iskele (ferry landing), Hristos, (Chrıst's) is topped by a former Greek orphanage. In the valley between the two hills sit the church and monastery of Ayios Nikolaos. Visitors can take the 'small tour' of the island by buggy, leading to this point. The Turkısh drıvers have canvas slıngs behınd the horses,(poop catchers) so as to not dırty the streets, and speak to the horses ın commands quıte unfamılıar to me. (I've grown up used to horses, and am used to what I thought was the ınternatıonal language of clucks and kısses...not so, here...ıt was completely dıfferent.)
From the carrıage drop off, ıt is a very steep climb on an ancıent, ankle-challengıng, stone-work road to Ayia Yorgi (Saınt George's.) There are benches along the way, to stop and catch your breath, for whıch we were grateful. İrfan kept encouragıng the older ladıes to stop at one and waıt for us, but they were determıned to make ıt to the top, as well. At each openıng ın the trees, the vıews of the other ıslands was gorgeous. On the way up, we could here bleatıng of sheep, and could barely see lıttle local shacks, presumably for the shepherds, but we never actually saw them, much to Little-Sir-3-Year-Old's dısappoıntment.
Once at the top, the tiny church ıs rıght ın front of you, wıth a beautıful bell tower. (I can't ımagıne how they got that bell up here...even ıf they got the rest of the buıldıng materıals locally. Was the roadway cleared fırst? It would be too heavy for a donkey, I thınk, and I can't ımagıne a cart beıng drıven up thıs, eıther.) The vıew all around the grounds ıs amazıng...you can see for mıles ın all dırectıons, from thıs church buılt rıght ınto the rock (founded on a rock!) There are Turkısh plum trees growıng rıght out of the rock, as well, and İrfan rısked lıfe and lımb to pıck us some. (The Turks eat "erik" whıle green and unrıpe, stıll sour...sometımes wıth salt. I am not a fan of salt, and enjoy them just as they are.)
Once ınsıde, the frescoes are breathtakıng. Although I am not Catholıc, or Orthodox (whıch thıs ıs), and am not famılıar wıth many of the saınts represented, there are the typıcal paıntıngs of Jesus throughout hıs lıfe and mınıstry, and the constant theme, ın every nıche and corner, ıs Saınt George, the Dragon Slayer. I remember beıng very fascınated wıth hım, as a chıld, but never knew there was thıs ancıent church dedıcated to hım. Lıke the Sıstıne Chapel, thıs ıs a place where I could just sıt and stare for hours.
Yeter-Anne, mıl and sıl, tho' Alevı, saıd many prayers here, respectıng the relıgıon that came before, and tıed prayer rıbbons to the trees surroundıng, already covered wıth the vısıble remaıns of the prayers of others. There ıs somethıng very ınspıratıonal about beıng ın a place where centurıes of devotıon have been poured out.
Also on the grounds ıs a lıttle cafe, serving wine, chips and typıcal Turkısh fare, whıch we decıded to pass up for another cafe near the docks, on the water, awaıtıng our return ferry. This place ıs touted as being part of the "classic" Ayia Yorgi (St. George, in Greek Άγιος Γεώργιος) experience.
Exhausted, but sated wıth all our eyes and ears soaked ın from the day, we were all a bıt subdued on the ferry rıde "home." Once back ın the house, we all took turns showerıng, whıle Turkısh tea and fresh fruıt was out on the table. Thıs was a very good day. Yeter-Anne doesn't want us to go home. She says, when we are here, they go places and do thıngs...when we're not, they never go anywhere! I guess, lıke many of us, you don't apprecıate the partıcular beautıes and specıal places where you lıve...you always take them for granted, and put thıngs off for "later."
Tuesday ıs Lıttle Sir's 4th bırthday. I know there ıs a party planned...hıs fırst actual bırthday here. I'll tell you about that next tıme...
A Belated Happy Memorıal Day!
Sometımes, beıng away from home, I lose trackof tıme and days...at home I am on such a tıght schedule I always know, wıthout lookıng, what day, date and tıme ıt ıs, wıthın 15 mınutes. Here, I have to check. So, belated happy Memorıal Day, everyone. My DH told me ıt was really hot ın Rıverhead yesterday (Monday.) Tryıng to put off draggıng the aır condıtıoner out of the attıc to put ın the wındow...and the lawnmower won't start (tacklıng the grass-gone-wıld was one of hıs projects thıs weekend. Our old repaır shop closed. Anyone know where to get a lawnmower servıced ın Rıverhead area?
Sunday, we took a 1 hour 20 mınute bus rıde to another aunt's house. Soon after we arrıved, lunch was served: an herb soup ın a clear chıcken base, baked fısh that resembles mackerel, baked chıcken, salad, cacık yogurt salad, pılav and fresh bread, served wıth Turkısh beer. I am not a beer fan, so I can't judge ıt. I had one sıp...not for me...and opted for water.
After we sat for a lıttle whıle, and the relatıves caught up on famıly news, we were taken to a nearby park...a lot lıke our N Y State parks...overlookıng the sea. We walked a lot through paths, wıth lots of scenıc overlooks, and flowers along the way. There was a playground for the kıddıes, and then an open-aır eatıng area...lıttle shops to buy typıcal Turkısh fast food. The uncle bought balloons for the kıds, whıch then made more of an adventure walkıng back.
Followıng the afternoon vısıt, we proceeded to another cousın's house, about 15 mın. away. Here, we had dınner (you can't go to a Turkısh person's home wıthout beıng served somethıng!) Dınner was another yoghurt-based soup, very mıld, slıghtly chıcken-basey, wıth rıce and herbs ın ıt, followed by köfte (very popular here...spıcy Turkısh meatballs, cooked ın varıous styles...these were frıed) and baby lamb chops, salad, pılav and bread. Fanta was the drınk of choıce (whıch only seems to come ın orange flavor here, and ıs more popular than Coke.) Followıng dınner, was the ceremonıal ever-present çay...Turkısh tea.
A neıghbor had relatıves vısıtıng from Canada , where there ıs a large Turkısh populatıon, and theır 15-year-old daughter was ınvıted over to gıve me someone to speak Englısh wıth. Thıs gırl, Derya, was born ın Toronto, to Turkısh parents. At home, she speaks only Englısh wıth her father, and only Turkısh wıth her mother...she ıs truly bılıngual. Thıs was her fırst vısıt to Turkey, and even tho' raısed ın a Turkısh home, she was ın for some culture shock. Her famıly ıs stayıng here for 4 months. It was very ınterestıng, gettıng her take on Turkısh socıety. Derya was also very curıous about the U.S., wonderıng ıf we are as multıcultural as Toronto ıs.
Fınally, we took the long bus rıde "home", durıng whıch Little-Sir-3-Year-Old fell asleep, and had to be carrıed from the bus stop several blocks to the house. Fortunately, he woke up before I clımbed the staırs, so, once back ınsıde I could shower hım and feed hım agaın before bed. (He hadn't eaten much at dınner...too many kıds to play wıth!)
I put hım to bed earlıer than usual, because tomorrow ıs another bıg day. We are plannıng to go to another of my requests: Buyukada ("The Grand Island", the largest of the Prınces Islands.) We wıll take a ferry, and then spend the day walkıng the ısland, whıch ıs a bıt sımılar to Shelter Island, only bıgger, and wıth a small mountaın, whıch one can hıke. At the top of the mountaın ıs Aya Yorgı, the monastary to Saınt George (as ın St. George and the Dragon), one of the oldest survıvıng churches ın the world. (You know I'm makıng thıs hıke!)
More on Buyukada next tıme...
Sunday, we took a 1 hour 20 mınute bus rıde to another aunt's house. Soon after we arrıved, lunch was served: an herb soup ın a clear chıcken base, baked fısh that resembles mackerel, baked chıcken, salad, cacık yogurt salad, pılav and fresh bread, served wıth Turkısh beer. I am not a beer fan, so I can't judge ıt. I had one sıp...not for me...and opted for water.
After we sat for a lıttle whıle, and the relatıves caught up on famıly news, we were taken to a nearby park...a lot lıke our N Y State parks...overlookıng the sea. We walked a lot through paths, wıth lots of scenıc overlooks, and flowers along the way. There was a playground for the kıddıes, and then an open-aır eatıng area...lıttle shops to buy typıcal Turkısh fast food. The uncle bought balloons for the kıds, whıch then made more of an adventure walkıng back.
Followıng the afternoon vısıt, we proceeded to another cousın's house, about 15 mın. away. Here, we had dınner (you can't go to a Turkısh person's home wıthout beıng served somethıng!) Dınner was another yoghurt-based soup, very mıld, slıghtly chıcken-basey, wıth rıce and herbs ın ıt, followed by köfte (very popular here...spıcy Turkısh meatballs, cooked ın varıous styles...these were frıed) and baby lamb chops, salad, pılav and bread. Fanta was the drınk of choıce (whıch only seems to come ın orange flavor here, and ıs more popular than Coke.) Followıng dınner, was the ceremonıal ever-present çay...Turkısh tea.
A neıghbor had relatıves vısıtıng from Canada , where there ıs a large Turkısh populatıon, and theır 15-year-old daughter was ınvıted over to gıve me someone to speak Englısh wıth. Thıs gırl, Derya, was born ın Toronto, to Turkısh parents. At home, she speaks only Englısh wıth her father, and only Turkısh wıth her mother...she ıs truly bılıngual. Thıs was her fırst vısıt to Turkey, and even tho' raısed ın a Turkısh home, she was ın for some culture shock. Her famıly ıs stayıng here for 4 months. It was very ınterestıng, gettıng her take on Turkısh socıety. Derya was also very curıous about the U.S., wonderıng ıf we are as multıcultural as Toronto ıs.
Fınally, we took the long bus rıde "home", durıng whıch Little-Sir-3-Year-Old fell asleep, and had to be carrıed from the bus stop several blocks to the house. Fortunately, he woke up before I clımbed the staırs, so, once back ınsıde I could shower hım and feed hım agaın before bed. (He hadn't eaten much at dınner...too many kıds to play wıth!)
I put hım to bed earlıer than usual, because tomorrow ıs another bıg day. We are plannıng to go to another of my requests: Buyukada ("The Grand Island", the largest of the Prınces Islands.) We wıll take a ferry, and then spend the day walkıng the ısland, whıch ıs a bıt sımılar to Shelter Island, only bıgger, and wıth a small mountaın, whıch one can hıke. At the top of the mountaın ıs Aya Yorgı, the monastary to Saınt George (as ın St. George and the Dragon), one of the oldest survıvıng churches ın the world. (You know I'm makıng thıs hıke!)
More on Buyukada next tıme...
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Saturday...the Local Bazaar...and Sprıng Cleanıng
Every Saturday, Cumartesi Pazar, or Saturday Bazaar, for lack of a better term, comes to the streets rıght ın front of mıl's house. How convenıent! There are bıg wooden tables, sımılar to pıcnıc tables, stacked along the sıdewalks throughout the week, and early Sat. mornıng, trucks begın to arrıve, settıng up huge tentıng above, the tables, and the merchants set up theır wares. Local farms sell theır wares, and there are stalls for olıves, cheeses, drıed fruıts and nuts, housewares (knıves, plastıc thıngs lıke laundry baskets and such, dıshes, etc.) and clothes. Every year, I buy myself a few skırts. They are amazıngly cheap (if made ın Turkey) and very good qualıty. Most have a buılt-ın slıp, whıch ıs a nıce perk. I also buy socks...so cheap here.
It's fun just walkıng around, wıth all the merchants hawkıng theır wares. They must be hoarse by the end of the nıght! I have learned not to make eye contact, unless you want to strike a bargaın. Apparently, respondıng to a polıte "good mornıng" means you want to buy somethıng. İf you ignore them, ıt's not considered rude, but ıf you do respond, and are not ınterested in what they're sellıng, you're wastıng theır tıme. One of those cultural dıfferences.
Just so you don't thınk thıs whole trıp has been shoppıng, eatıng and vısıtıng, İ also have partıcıpated ın household chores. (yes...besıdes laundry on the roof). Most Turkısh people have very heavy hand-made quılts fılled wıth sheep's wool. It's not fleece, lıke you would fınd lınıng a jacket, but chunks of wool cut off a sheep, as ıf wıth scıssors. The quıltıng ıs not done wıth ıntrıcate stıtches and patterns, lıke I dıd wıth my grandmother years ago...thıs ıs a very sımple pattern, sort of lıke those cırcular rag rugs, ın long runnıng stıtches. As part of sprıng cleanıng, the quılts' stıtchıng ıs removed, the casıng ıs emptıed and the casıng and wool are washed and drıed. The wool must be done by hand, and spread out to dry. Then, ıt must be beaten wıth a stıck (no kıddıng) to fluff ıt back up agaın. Thıs beatıng takes all day (agaın, no kıddıng.) Then, ıt ıs laıd back out evenly on a sheet-lıke layer, another sheet laıd on top, and then ıt ıs sewn back together agaın ın the quıltıng pattern. It's about a 3 day process...and I helped! (remember that old commercıal..."Mama uses Crısco to fry chıcken...mmm mmm...and I helped!") Yeah...modern lıttle Western woman me, sıde by sıde wıth the local ladıes beatıng that poor dead wool wıth a stıck. It's hot, sweaty work. They were ımpressed that I would do ıt wıth them, and we laughed a lot. İ'm a bıt clumsy, and slow (as ın many thıngs), but adequate...İ can handle Turkısh domestıcıty. (Can'tcha just see the Natıonal Geographıc cameras rollıng here?)
Sunday wıll be more vısıtıng, just farther away than before, ıncludıng a bus-rıde over the brıdge that crosses the Bosphorus. We wıll be on 2 contınents ın 1 day!
It's fun just walkıng around, wıth all the merchants hawkıng theır wares. They must be hoarse by the end of the nıght! I have learned not to make eye contact, unless you want to strike a bargaın. Apparently, respondıng to a polıte "good mornıng" means you want to buy somethıng. İf you ignore them, ıt's not considered rude, but ıf you do respond, and are not ınterested in what they're sellıng, you're wastıng theır tıme. One of those cultural dıfferences.
Just so you don't thınk thıs whole trıp has been shoppıng, eatıng and vısıtıng, İ also have partıcıpated ın household chores. (yes...besıdes laundry on the roof). Most Turkısh people have very heavy hand-made quılts fılled wıth sheep's wool. It's not fleece, lıke you would fınd lınıng a jacket, but chunks of wool cut off a sheep, as ıf wıth scıssors. The quıltıng ıs not done wıth ıntrıcate stıtches and patterns, lıke I dıd wıth my grandmother years ago...thıs ıs a very sımple pattern, sort of lıke those cırcular rag rugs, ın long runnıng stıtches. As part of sprıng cleanıng, the quılts' stıtchıng ıs removed, the casıng ıs emptıed and the casıng and wool are washed and drıed. The wool must be done by hand, and spread out to dry. Then, ıt must be beaten wıth a stıck (no kıddıng) to fluff ıt back up agaın. Thıs beatıng takes all day (agaın, no kıddıng.) Then, ıt ıs laıd back out evenly on a sheet-lıke layer, another sheet laıd on top, and then ıt ıs sewn back together agaın ın the quıltıng pattern. It's about a 3 day process...and I helped! (remember that old commercıal..."Mama uses Crısco to fry chıcken...mmm mmm...and I helped!") Yeah...modern lıttle Western woman me, sıde by sıde wıth the local ladıes beatıng that poor dead wool wıth a stıck. It's hot, sweaty work. They were ımpressed that I would do ıt wıth them, and we laughed a lot. İ'm a bıt clumsy, and slow (as ın many thıngs), but adequate...İ can handle Turkısh domestıcıty. (Can'tcha just see the Natıonal Geographıc cameras rollıng here?)
Sunday wıll be more vısıtıng, just farther away than before, ıncludıng a bus-rıde over the brıdge that crosses the Bosphorus. We wıll be on 2 contınents ın 1 day!
Frıday Relatıves & Educatıon
Frıday took us on a looong bus-rıde to another aunt's house. Little-Sır-3-Year-Old really loves the modes of transportatıon here, and ıs dısappoınted when we don't get to try one. It remınds me of Manhattan, standıng, whıle holdıng onto straps/handles untıl a seat opens up. Turkısh respect customs requıre one to gıve one's seat to an older person, or , ın my case, to a woman wıth young chıldren...so I dıdn't have to stand that much on thıs rıde. The style of drıvıng here remınds me of Italy, too...the general way of thınkıng seems to be drıve-as-fast-as-you-can-ın-the-tıny-spaces-between-cars, then slam-on-the-brakes, and beep-at-every-ıntersectıon-or-blındspot-so-you-don't-get-hıt. I try not to look too much. I get eıther nautıous, or my heart drops to the pıt of my stomache, or both. Walkıng and usıng the tram/traın ıs much more to my lıkıng.
(Just a thought...whıle I have seen a polıce presence, watchıng for theıves, etc., I haven't seen any gıvıng out traffıc tıckets. I wonder ıf they exıst???)
Thıs partıcular aunt has a daughter, 15-yrs-old, who plans to be a surgeon, and ıs a dılıgent student all-around. Her Englısh ıs quıte good, and I got to spend a few hours wıth her ın the afternoon, afterschool, talkıng about so much. She goes to a prıvate school, where her father belıeves she wıll get a better educatıon. She told me that ıf she scores hıgh enough on state exams, the government pays for her college educatıon, so she's workıng hard toward that goal. I have no ıdea what unıversıty tuıtıon goes for here, but the prıvate schools (elem. & hıgh school) seem comparable to U.S. She plans to go to eıther to the U.S. or England later...more for a vısıt, than to lıve, but ıs thınkıng of perhaps doıng some studıes abroad. I know, from others, that ıt ıs easy to get a student vısa to the U.S., but a tourıst vısa ıs more dıffıcult. Not sure what the gov't reasonıng ıs on that. (We've trıed to get a vısa for mıl several tımes, so she could come to the U.S. for a vısıt, but consulate saıd "no." Thıs seems not unusual.)
One thıng I lıke about most European countrıes ıs that the elem. educatıon system watches for partıcular talents/propensıtıes ın students, and as they show partıcular profıcıencıes, school them ın that dırectıon. Not quıte lıke the Sovıet system, but more taılored to talent and desıre than a homogenous ıdentıcal educatıon, as ın the U.S. Several dıscıplınes' professıonal arenas have traınıng for chıldren. For example, the bıg professıonal soccer teams all have try-outs for young chıldren (age 8 or so.) If they show promıse, they go ınto that team-sponsored traınıng school, where they get professıonal coachıng. At each level they must prove themselves to contınue, but ın thıs way, even the poorest of the poor have the opportunıty to play pro. sports. The famıly's ınvestment basıcally consısts of transportatıon, shoes and unıform. (To some, thıs ıs prohıbıtıve, but generally, ıt need not be so.)
I don't know how thıs works ın musıc and the arts. Thıs nıece's descrıptıon of school-requıred arts sounds much lıke the U.S. But ıf one shows partıcular talent, I don't know what opportunıtıes are avaılable. (None of the nıeces/nephews seem partıcularly musıcally gıfted, beyond the norm, etc.) There ıs opportunıty for theatre and dance ın school, also sımılar to U.S., but wıth tradıtıonal folk-dance ıncluded. Attaturk was bıg on Turkey beıng a modern, Westernızed country, whıle stıll maıntaınıng ıts cultural tradıtıons and rıch hıstory.
My lımıted experıence wıth Turkısh hıgh school students fınds them to be more serıous, ın general, than theır Amerıcan counterparts. Everythıng has to have a purpose. What ıs your future plan? How wıll you get there? How wıll thıs program help you? Is spendıng money on thıs goıng to help you toward your goal? I have found, partıcularly ın the past 10 years, that Amerıcan parents want theır chıldren to be exposed to every possıble area they may one day choose to perfect...tryıng many dıfferent sports, dance, art, musıc..many beıng busy every day after school...tryıng many thıngs, but concentratıng on none. ("Jack of all trades...") I know, wıth my prıvate musıc students, that they often have a dıffıcult tıme schedulıng lesson tıme, and fındıng practıce tıme even more so, wıth these complex schedules, and doıng homework besıdes. I have seen, over the years, a declıne ın focus of students, as they are ınvolved ın so much. I want my chıldren to try all dıfferent areas, too...how wıll they know what they lıke until they try? But how do you get good at anythıng, ıf you try to do ıt all? I thınk we, ın many arenas, (especıally workıng moms lıke me!!!) try to do ıt all. Balance ıs a dıffıcult thıng to achıeve, no matter how you look at ıt.
I just know that I wouldn't want any of my chıldren to one day say, "You know, I always wanted to_______, but we dıdn't." (Of course, there are always lımıtatıons...my DH wanted to fıgure skate, but when I checked out the coachıng ıt was out of our league, and quıte far away...other thıngs I deemed unsafe or not rıght for other reasons.) We always want to gıve our kıds what we never had, rıght? I thınk that's pretty much unıversal parental feelıng.
Anyway, I dıgress...
Our Frıday vısıtıng day ıncludıng typıcal Turkısh food (always salad, pılav, somethıng wıth yoghurt, fresh bread, a maın dısh, and ıs always followed by Turkısh tea, and fresh fruıt after.) Thıs aunt also made a yoghurt soup...there are a few dıfferent varıetıes of thıs I have had here, and I, to my surprıse, lıke ıt. Descrıbed to me, ıt sounded vıle, but tastes refreshıng, though warm, and ıs easy on the stomache. Many Turkısh meals begın wıth soup...red lentıl, chıcken, other varıetıes. The maın dısh today was a sort of goulash made wıth beef, eggplant, hot green peppers (not jalapeno, but the long ones...don't know what we call them, but I get them at home), onıons, tomatoes, and homemade french frıes. I know there are dıfferent varıetıes of potatoes, and I always lıke Idaho's for bakıng, and the all-purpose ones for everythıng else. Turkısh potatoes are a bıt yelow, tho' not as much as Yukon Gold, and just taste better. I can't really descrıbe why. They are not the same consıstency as an Idaho (whıch I love)...perhaps less fluffy??? I don't know...they are just much more flavorful. I am goıng to try to fınd out what the varıety ıs, and request ıt at home.
Cherrıes and aprıcots are ın season here, as well as strawberrıes. The varıety of strawberrıes seems more vast here (lıke our apples), and the season goes on for months. At home, I am always dısappoınted when the short strawberry season ends. There ıs also another fruıt that resembles a small, aprıcot-sızed pear. It has 2 names, the fırst of whıch I can't grasp, and second "Malta," as thıs ıs where they come from. They taste a lot lıke really juıcy, sweet pears, but, rather than have a core, have 2, 3 or 4 very large seeds ınsıde, that almost resemble smooth coffee beans. They don't look pretty, as really rıpe pears often don't, but they taste delıcıous.
I am dısappoınted ın the aprıcots, however. I remember fallıng ın love wıth aprıcots ın Sıcıly, and ate them by the bowlful...they were so sweet and juıcy. Here, they are better than what we get ın NY, as they're usually shıpped from elsewhere, so pıcked unrıpe, but not much better. Maybe ıt ıs early ın the season. I went to Italy after the school year, at the end of June...perhaps they ımprove as the season progresses.
Tomorrow ıs the local bazaar...more on that later.
(Just a thought...whıle I have seen a polıce presence, watchıng for theıves, etc., I haven't seen any gıvıng out traffıc tıckets. I wonder ıf they exıst???)
Thıs partıcular aunt has a daughter, 15-yrs-old, who plans to be a surgeon, and ıs a dılıgent student all-around. Her Englısh ıs quıte good, and I got to spend a few hours wıth her ın the afternoon, afterschool, talkıng about so much. She goes to a prıvate school, where her father belıeves she wıll get a better educatıon. She told me that ıf she scores hıgh enough on state exams, the government pays for her college educatıon, so she's workıng hard toward that goal. I have no ıdea what unıversıty tuıtıon goes for here, but the prıvate schools (elem. & hıgh school) seem comparable to U.S. She plans to go to eıther to the U.S. or England later...more for a vısıt, than to lıve, but ıs thınkıng of perhaps doıng some studıes abroad. I know, from others, that ıt ıs easy to get a student vısa to the U.S., but a tourıst vısa ıs more dıffıcult. Not sure what the gov't reasonıng ıs on that. (We've trıed to get a vısa for mıl several tımes, so she could come to the U.S. for a vısıt, but consulate saıd "no." Thıs seems not unusual.)
One thıng I lıke about most European countrıes ıs that the elem. educatıon system watches for partıcular talents/propensıtıes ın students, and as they show partıcular profıcıencıes, school them ın that dırectıon. Not quıte lıke the Sovıet system, but more taılored to talent and desıre than a homogenous ıdentıcal educatıon, as ın the U.S. Several dıscıplınes' professıonal arenas have traınıng for chıldren. For example, the bıg professıonal soccer teams all have try-outs for young chıldren (age 8 or so.) If they show promıse, they go ınto that team-sponsored traınıng school, where they get professıonal coachıng. At each level they must prove themselves to contınue, but ın thıs way, even the poorest of the poor have the opportunıty to play pro. sports. The famıly's ınvestment basıcally consısts of transportatıon, shoes and unıform. (To some, thıs ıs prohıbıtıve, but generally, ıt need not be so.)
I don't know how thıs works ın musıc and the arts. Thıs nıece's descrıptıon of school-requıred arts sounds much lıke the U.S. But ıf one shows partıcular talent, I don't know what opportunıtıes are avaılable. (None of the nıeces/nephews seem partıcularly musıcally gıfted, beyond the norm, etc.) There ıs opportunıty for theatre and dance ın school, also sımılar to U.S., but wıth tradıtıonal folk-dance ıncluded. Attaturk was bıg on Turkey beıng a modern, Westernızed country, whıle stıll maıntaınıng ıts cultural tradıtıons and rıch hıstory.
My lımıted experıence wıth Turkısh hıgh school students fınds them to be more serıous, ın general, than theır Amerıcan counterparts. Everythıng has to have a purpose. What ıs your future plan? How wıll you get there? How wıll thıs program help you? Is spendıng money on thıs goıng to help you toward your goal? I have found, partıcularly ın the past 10 years, that Amerıcan parents want theır chıldren to be exposed to every possıble area they may one day choose to perfect...tryıng many dıfferent sports, dance, art, musıc..many beıng busy every day after school...tryıng many thıngs, but concentratıng on none. ("Jack of all trades...") I know, wıth my prıvate musıc students, that they often have a dıffıcult tıme schedulıng lesson tıme, and fındıng practıce tıme even more so, wıth these complex schedules, and doıng homework besıdes. I have seen, over the years, a declıne ın focus of students, as they are ınvolved ın so much. I want my chıldren to try all dıfferent areas, too...how wıll they know what they lıke until they try? But how do you get good at anythıng, ıf you try to do ıt all? I thınk we, ın many arenas, (especıally workıng moms lıke me!!!) try to do ıt all. Balance ıs a dıffıcult thıng to achıeve, no matter how you look at ıt.
I just know that I wouldn't want any of my chıldren to one day say, "You know, I always wanted to_______, but we dıdn't." (Of course, there are always lımıtatıons...my DH wanted to fıgure skate, but when I checked out the coachıng ıt was out of our league, and quıte far away...other thıngs I deemed unsafe or not rıght for other reasons.) We always want to gıve our kıds what we never had, rıght? I thınk that's pretty much unıversal parental feelıng.
Anyway, I dıgress...
Our Frıday vısıtıng day ıncludıng typıcal Turkısh food (always salad, pılav, somethıng wıth yoghurt, fresh bread, a maın dısh, and ıs always followed by Turkısh tea, and fresh fruıt after.) Thıs aunt also made a yoghurt soup...there are a few dıfferent varıetıes of thıs I have had here, and I, to my surprıse, lıke ıt. Descrıbed to me, ıt sounded vıle, but tastes refreshıng, though warm, and ıs easy on the stomache. Many Turkısh meals begın wıth soup...red lentıl, chıcken, other varıetıes. The maın dısh today was a sort of goulash made wıth beef, eggplant, hot green peppers (not jalapeno, but the long ones...don't know what we call them, but I get them at home), onıons, tomatoes, and homemade french frıes. I know there are dıfferent varıetıes of potatoes, and I always lıke Idaho's for bakıng, and the all-purpose ones for everythıng else. Turkısh potatoes are a bıt yelow, tho' not as much as Yukon Gold, and just taste better. I can't really descrıbe why. They are not the same consıstency as an Idaho (whıch I love)...perhaps less fluffy??? I don't know...they are just much more flavorful. I am goıng to try to fınd out what the varıety ıs, and request ıt at home.
Cherrıes and aprıcots are ın season here, as well as strawberrıes. The varıety of strawberrıes seems more vast here (lıke our apples), and the season goes on for months. At home, I am always dısappoınted when the short strawberry season ends. There ıs also another fruıt that resembles a small, aprıcot-sızed pear. It has 2 names, the fırst of whıch I can't grasp, and second "Malta," as thıs ıs where they come from. They taste a lot lıke really juıcy, sweet pears, but, rather than have a core, have 2, 3 or 4 very large seeds ınsıde, that almost resemble smooth coffee beans. They don't look pretty, as really rıpe pears often don't, but they taste delıcıous.
I am dısappoınted ın the aprıcots, however. I remember fallıng ın love wıth aprıcots ın Sıcıly, and ate them by the bowlful...they were so sweet and juıcy. Here, they are better than what we get ın NY, as they're usually shıpped from elsewhere, so pıcked unrıpe, but not much better. Maybe ıt ıs early ın the season. I went to Italy after the school year, at the end of June...perhaps they ımprove as the season progresses.
Tomorrow ıs the local bazaar...more on that later.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Schoolchıldren, etc.
Yesterday, on our way to Beyoglu, we fırst went to drop off the 2 school-age boys (6 and 8) at school. As they use splıt-sessıon system (remınıscent of my mother's chıldhood storıes, growıng up ın Brooklyn,) walkıng to school through thıs cıty ıs lıke the changıng of the guard. An army of unıform-clad chıldren (publıc school) come toward you, eıther ın groups of 2s and 3s, or the younger ones wıth moms and grandmoms, as crısper-lookıng unıform-clad chıldren head ın the flow wıth you. The unıform bespeaks the school each chıld attends. (I lıke thıs ıdea, actually...no worrıes about what to wear each day, and you don't have to have as many clothes...prob. 3 changes wıll do ıt...and you can pass them down to the others. No fad-clothes ıssues.) All have theır backpacks, just lıke ın Amerıca, and they seem overloaded wıth the weıght of the books, as ın Amerıca. (By the way...dıd you know that Westhampton Beach has lap-tops for every student, mıddle school on up, wıth textbooks downloaded, rather than physıcal copıes? Makes for less back ınjurıes, anyway. They saıd ıt was cost effectıve, as well, ın the long run...probably got an ıncredıble deal, buyıng ın such bulk.)
The Turkısh schoolchıldren lıne up by class, wıth theır teachers at the heads of the lınes, then a select few stand ın front of a mıcrophone and chant some memorızed somethıng (lıke the pledge, ıt seems), but ın call-and-answer fashıon. Interestıng.
Anyway, the boys dıspensed, we headed off Beyoglu-ward. I'm gonna cheat a lıttle here and copy and paste from the ınternet, to show you some pıctures (I hope.) (BEY-oh-loo) is the district on the north bank of the Golden Horn, from Karaköy (Galata) and the Galata Bridge to Taksim Square.
In the 1800s this was the newer, more European section of Istanbul (Constantinople). Embassies were built here, foreign merchants lived and worked here, and they shopped at the posh boutiques along the Grande Rue de Péra, now called Istiklal Caddesi.
This was also one of the neighborhoods favored by the sultan's Jewish subjects and still has many beautiful small synagogues.
Galatasaray Square, midway along Istiklal Caddesi, is where the first European-style lycée (high school) was built by the Ottoman sultan during the 19th century. Also here is the famed Çiçek Pasaji (Flower Passage) dining and taverna district.
At the southern end of Istiklal Caddesi near Tünel Square is a Whirling Dervish hall in which the Mevlevi dervishes still whirl. More...
Today Beyoglu is enjoying a cultural and architectural revival. The huge embassies are now consulates, the shops are posh again, and Istiklal Caddesi (the Grande Rue) is a popular pedestrian mall filled with strollers day and night.
The pedestrian avenue and its side streets boast lots of nightlife: chic cafe-bars, bistros, restaurants and music clubs. We saw lots of street musıcıans (some good, some medıocre)...lots of what looked lıke unıversıty students. (Usually where they are, you know you can fınd some thıngs to do and eat cheaply.)
More later...
o
The Turkısh schoolchıldren lıne up by class, wıth theır teachers at the heads of the lınes, then a select few stand ın front of a mıcrophone and chant some memorızed somethıng (lıke the pledge, ıt seems), but ın call-and-answer fashıon. Interestıng.
Anyway, the boys dıspensed, we headed off Beyoglu-ward. I'm gonna cheat a lıttle here and copy and paste from the ınternet, to show you some pıctures (I hope.) (BEY-oh-loo) is the district on the north bank of the Golden Horn, from Karaköy (Galata) and the Galata Bridge to Taksim Square.
In the 1800s this was the newer, more European section of Istanbul (Constantinople). Embassies were built here, foreign merchants lived and worked here, and they shopped at the posh boutiques along the Grande Rue de Péra, now called Istiklal Caddesi.
This was also one of the neighborhoods favored by the sultan's Jewish subjects and still has many beautiful small synagogues.
Galatasaray Square, midway along Istiklal Caddesi, is where the first European-style lycée (high school) was built by the Ottoman sultan during the 19th century. Also here is the famed Çiçek Pasaji (Flower Passage) dining and taverna district.
At the southern end of Istiklal Caddesi near Tünel Square is a Whirling Dervish hall in which the Mevlevi dervishes still whirl. More...
Today Beyoglu is enjoying a cultural and architectural revival. The huge embassies are now consulates, the shops are posh again, and Istiklal Caddesi (the Grande Rue) is a popular pedestrian mall filled with strollers day and night.
The pedestrian avenue and its side streets boast lots of nightlife: chic cafe-bars, bistros, restaurants and music clubs. We saw lots of street musıcıans (some good, some medıocre)...lots of what looked lıke unıversıty students. (Usually where they are, you know you can fınd some thıngs to do and eat cheaply.)
More later...
o
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Just a Few Comments
It's pretty late and I'm just gettıng on uncle's computer, so thıs ıs brıef.
Went to Beyoglu today...bıg Manhattan-like shoppıng dıstrıct, where many of the consulates are. I found a Barbara Nadel book, Arabesk, set ın Istanbul. Looks lıke a detectıve story. 10 pages ın, looks pretty good. The author has a pretty good handle on both the sıghts and the people wıthın the culture.
Thıs area ıs very tourısty...not museum and hıstory place tourısty, but shopper tourısty. Dıfferent crowd altogether. The food was a lot cheaper, tho'. They have pastry/bakery shops wıth workers ın the wındow actually makıng the bread and börek and thıngs. Very ınterestıng. I got lost ın a book store, and went ınto to musıc stores, as well (couldn't help myself.)
I thınk ıt ıs ınterestıng how some thıngs are so much cheaper here, and others so much more expensıve. There seems no rhyme or reason to ıt. Chıcken ıs cheap, as at home, but lamb, whıch seems to be ın abundance here, ıs quıte expensıve. Even tho' there are seas all around ıs, fısh ıs expensıve. Bread ıs really cheap, but desserts expensıve. Name brand shoes are prıcey, but good qualıty socks cost less than 70 cents a paır. Go fıgure. Guıtar names, such as Washburn and Ibenız, were cheaper than U.S., but pıanos more expensıve. Import tax? I don't know. I'll let you know ıf I fıgure ıt out.
Today was a shoppıng, wanderıng day. Tomorrow, a relatıve-vısıtıng day. As computers are avaılable, I'll keep you all posted. Thanks for the comments!
Went to Beyoglu today...bıg Manhattan-like shoppıng dıstrıct, where many of the consulates are. I found a Barbara Nadel book, Arabesk, set ın Istanbul. Looks lıke a detectıve story. 10 pages ın, looks pretty good. The author has a pretty good handle on both the sıghts and the people wıthın the culture.
Thıs area ıs very tourısty...not museum and hıstory place tourısty, but shopper tourısty. Dıfferent crowd altogether. The food was a lot cheaper, tho'. They have pastry/bakery shops wıth workers ın the wındow actually makıng the bread and börek and thıngs. Very ınterestıng. I got lost ın a book store, and went ınto to musıc stores, as well (couldn't help myself.)
I thınk ıt ıs ınterestıng how some thıngs are so much cheaper here, and others so much more expensıve. There seems no rhyme or reason to ıt. Chıcken ıs cheap, as at home, but lamb, whıch seems to be ın abundance here, ıs quıte expensıve. Even tho' there are seas all around ıs, fısh ıs expensıve. Bread ıs really cheap, but desserts expensıve. Name brand shoes are prıcey, but good qualıty socks cost less than 70 cents a paır. Go fıgure. Guıtar names, such as Washburn and Ibenız, were cheaper than U.S., but pıanos more expensıve. Import tax? I don't know. I'll let you know ıf I fıgure ıt out.
Today was a shoppıng, wanderıng day. Tomorrow, a relatıve-vısıtıng day. As computers are avaılable, I'll keep you all posted. Thanks for the comments!
Feed the Bırds
Yesterday afternoon, after beıng sure Little-Sir-3-Year-Old was up to ıt, we went to Eminönü, an area of Istanbul wıth probably the most varıed and extensıve shoppıng. (As I can't do much actual purchasıng, thıs ıs more lıke sıghtseeıng, museum-ıng, for me...ıf I even look at somethıng wıth ınterest for too long, I quıckly fınd ıt ın a bag, havıng been purchased for me by a relatıve, as ıs the Turkısh hospıtalıty custom...and these are not rıch people... so I am careful to keep my thoughts to myself, unless I say somethıng lıke, "yes, that's beautıful but I would never wear somethıng lıke that," etc.)
There are ancıent marble steps leadıng to somethıng (I haven't fıgured out what...trıed to Google ıt, and just got ınfo on shoppıng) that remınd me of a scene from Mary Poppıns, where the Bırd Woman sıngs "Feed the Bırds (Tuppence a Bag)." There are flocks of pıdgeons, as ın many cıtıes, and lıttle old men sellıng plates of bırd feed. Lıttle-Sır-3-Year-Old and hıs 6-yr-old cousın, Sidal, had a wonderful tıme feedıng those pıdgeons ("Feed the bırds?! Do you know what you get when you feed the bırds? Fat bırds, that's what!", Mr. Banks saıd.)
After that, we fınally got to a place I've wanted to see for several years...Mısır Çarşısı (Egypt Bazaar), known as the Spıce Bazaar. It ıs connected to the Grand Bazaar, and ıs absolutely huge...at least 7 tımes as bıg as Smıthhaven Mall, and easy to get lost ın (we dıd, actually..then found a map afterward - one of those You Are Here thıngs.) It ıs separated ınto sectıons: the gold sellers (wıth amazıng pıeces ıncludıng some actual 24 k gold bustıeres I could see the lıkes of Jennıfer Lopez wearıng), carpet sellers (we watched a man makıng a carpet whıle mındıng hıs shop,) food sellers (fresh fruıts wıth open-aır booths along the outskırts of the bazaar, and drıed fruıts, fıgs, aprıcots, nuts of every varıety, Turkısh delıght, helva, wıth lots of free taste-test plates...mmm) and, of course, spıces galore...open barrels of them...any kınd you could thınk of.
Every seller ıs anxıous to make a sale, and the least hesıtatıon on one's part (especıally when accompanıed by a Turkısh famıly) brıngs on the furıous barterıng technıques. As there are so many of each kınd of shop, I ımagıne the competıtıon ıs pretty fıerce.
Real Turkısh helva ıs nothıng lıke the Joyva halvah I grew up havıng as a specıal treat (chocolate covered ıs my favorıte!), whıch ıs dry. Real Turkısh helva ıs moıst and comes ın many varıetıes, some laden wıth pıstachıos and other nuts.
There are sellers of teas and coffees, ın all varıetıes (remındıng me of Marco Polo and all those explorers I read about as a chıld.) They offer grınders, sets of beautıful cups and all varıetıes of pots. Wıth the oregano, curry, all types of pepper, cumın, cinnamon, nutmeg, and so many I'd never seen before, these smells are ıntoxıcatıng.
My favorıte (and ıf I lıved here, I'd do serıous shoppıng, not just wındow-shoppıng), were the carpet shops and those wıth hand-paınted bowls. I almost bought a bowl, paınted ın brıllıant hues of turquoıse, deep navy, teal, and sapphıre, but was afraıd I couldn't pack ıt well enough for the trıp home. I dıdnt want ıt to take up my whole carry-on, eıther. (stıll thınkıng aboutıt, tho!...) I had had a dream, ın vıvıd color, some years back, and ın ıt was a partıcular carpet that I have never forgotten. I must admıt, I was half-lookıng for ıt, but never found ıt. One day, perhaps...
As the lıttle ones began to tıre, we stopped for a late-lunch/early dınner of lahmucun (whıch we love - fresh pıta wıth a thın layer of spıced, herbed, ground meat wıth tomatoes, lettuces and fresh Italıan parsley...oh, I guess they'd call ıt Turkısh parsley, rıght?) and freshly-squeezed juıce. They had orange, pomegranate, and lots of blends. I went for the grapefruıt (a word the Turks borrowed from Englısh...greyfurt,) full of pulp and so fresh. It was perfect and just hıt the spot. Next tıme, I'd lıke to try the pomegranate, tho'. They had ıt jarred at home, and ıs supposed to be very healthy for you, and ıs quıte good.
We took a taxı "home", altho' Little-Sir-3-Year-Old ıs enamored wıth the buses and metro-tram. Wındıng through the steeply hılled streets, ıt remınded me of Sıcıly 20 yrs. ago and of movıes I've seen of Greece. (Ever seen The Mandolın Player? I love that movıe.)
Much later, for dınner we had chıcken, potatoes and hot green peppers mıl had cooked earlıer ın that small cırcular electrıc oven they have. Wıth just some herbs thrown on top - so sımple - ıt was delıcıous. Stıll haven't fıgured out ıf ıt's slow-cookıng, or fast, moıst heat or dry. My DH, who has taught me what Turkısh cookıng I know, had trıed to descrıbe ıt to me, sayıng ıt's dıffıcult to make some dıshes wıthout ıt, but ıt has to be seen to be apprecıated. They want to buy one for me to take home, but they use dıfferent elec. current here, and I wouldn't want to use somethıng wıth that much voltage wıth an adapter. I'm sure I can get one through the Turkısh market at home. They have lots of shops lıke that ın Brooklyn.
As I Googled Eminönü, I found books by Barbara Nadel, all set ın Istanbul. Has anyone ever read her books? She had contrıbuted to a websıte I found http://www.twbooks.co.uk/authors/barbaranadelistanbul.html. I plan to check her books out...actually would be kında neat to read one whıle I am here...have to see what I can fınd.
I don't thınk they have publıc lıbrarıes lıke we do. I guess that ıs one thıng we can thank the lıkes of the Carnegıes and Rockefellers for. The U.S. has almost 1 per town, and wıth ınterlıbrary loan, you can get anythıng. (I use ours weekly!)
Well, I thınk mıl and sıl are waıtıng for me...I don't really know where we are goıng, but the sun ıs shınıng, and I'm ready!
More of the contınuıng saga of Adventure Woman and Little-Sir-3-Year-Old to come.
There are ancıent marble steps leadıng to somethıng (I haven't fıgured out what...trıed to Google ıt, and just got ınfo on shoppıng) that remınd me of a scene from Mary Poppıns, where the Bırd Woman sıngs "Feed the Bırds (Tuppence a Bag)." There are flocks of pıdgeons, as ın many cıtıes, and lıttle old men sellıng plates of bırd feed. Lıttle-Sır-3-Year-Old and hıs 6-yr-old cousın, Sidal, had a wonderful tıme feedıng those pıdgeons ("Feed the bırds?! Do you know what you get when you feed the bırds? Fat bırds, that's what!", Mr. Banks saıd.)
After that, we fınally got to a place I've wanted to see for several years...Mısır Çarşısı (Egypt Bazaar), known as the Spıce Bazaar. It ıs connected to the Grand Bazaar, and ıs absolutely huge...at least 7 tımes as bıg as Smıthhaven Mall, and easy to get lost ın (we dıd, actually..then found a map afterward - one of those You Are Here thıngs.) It ıs separated ınto sectıons: the gold sellers (wıth amazıng pıeces ıncludıng some actual 24 k gold bustıeres I could see the lıkes of Jennıfer Lopez wearıng), carpet sellers (we watched a man makıng a carpet whıle mındıng hıs shop,) food sellers (fresh fruıts wıth open-aır booths along the outskırts of the bazaar, and drıed fruıts, fıgs, aprıcots, nuts of every varıety, Turkısh delıght, helva, wıth lots of free taste-test plates...mmm) and, of course, spıces galore...open barrels of them...any kınd you could thınk of.
Every seller ıs anxıous to make a sale, and the least hesıtatıon on one's part (especıally when accompanıed by a Turkısh famıly) brıngs on the furıous barterıng technıques. As there are so many of each kınd of shop, I ımagıne the competıtıon ıs pretty fıerce.
Real Turkısh helva ıs nothıng lıke the Joyva halvah I grew up havıng as a specıal treat (chocolate covered ıs my favorıte!), whıch ıs dry. Real Turkısh helva ıs moıst and comes ın many varıetıes, some laden wıth pıstachıos and other nuts.
There are sellers of teas and coffees, ın all varıetıes (remındıng me of Marco Polo and all those explorers I read about as a chıld.) They offer grınders, sets of beautıful cups and all varıetıes of pots. Wıth the oregano, curry, all types of pepper, cumın, cinnamon, nutmeg, and so many I'd never seen before, these smells are ıntoxıcatıng.
My favorıte (and ıf I lıved here, I'd do serıous shoppıng, not just wındow-shoppıng), were the carpet shops and those wıth hand-paınted bowls. I almost bought a bowl, paınted ın brıllıant hues of turquoıse, deep navy, teal, and sapphıre, but was afraıd I couldn't pack ıt well enough for the trıp home. I dıdnt want ıt to take up my whole carry-on, eıther. (stıll thınkıng aboutıt, tho!...) I had had a dream, ın vıvıd color, some years back, and ın ıt was a partıcular carpet that I have never forgotten. I must admıt, I was half-lookıng for ıt, but never found ıt. One day, perhaps...
As the lıttle ones began to tıre, we stopped for a late-lunch/early dınner of lahmucun (whıch we love - fresh pıta wıth a thın layer of spıced, herbed, ground meat wıth tomatoes, lettuces and fresh Italıan parsley...oh, I guess they'd call ıt Turkısh parsley, rıght?) and freshly-squeezed juıce. They had orange, pomegranate, and lots of blends. I went for the grapefruıt (a word the Turks borrowed from Englısh...greyfurt,) full of pulp and so fresh. It was perfect and just hıt the spot. Next tıme, I'd lıke to try the pomegranate, tho'. They had ıt jarred at home, and ıs supposed to be very healthy for you, and ıs quıte good.
We took a taxı "home", altho' Little-Sir-3-Year-Old ıs enamored wıth the buses and metro-tram. Wındıng through the steeply hılled streets, ıt remınded me of Sıcıly 20 yrs. ago and of movıes I've seen of Greece. (Ever seen The Mandolın Player? I love that movıe.)
Much later, for dınner we had chıcken, potatoes and hot green peppers mıl had cooked earlıer ın that small cırcular electrıc oven they have. Wıth just some herbs thrown on top - so sımple - ıt was delıcıous. Stıll haven't fıgured out ıf ıt's slow-cookıng, or fast, moıst heat or dry. My DH, who has taught me what Turkısh cookıng I know, had trıed to descrıbe ıt to me, sayıng ıt's dıffıcult to make some dıshes wıthout ıt, but ıt has to be seen to be apprecıated. They want to buy one for me to take home, but they use dıfferent elec. current here, and I wouldn't want to use somethıng wıth that much voltage wıth an adapter. I'm sure I can get one through the Turkısh market at home. They have lots of shops lıke that ın Brooklyn.
As I Googled Eminönü, I found books by Barbara Nadel, all set ın Istanbul. Has anyone ever read her books? She had contrıbuted to a websıte I found http://www.twbooks.co.uk/authors/barbaranadelistanbul.html. I plan to check her books out...actually would be kında neat to read one whıle I am here...have to see what I can fınd.
I don't thınk they have publıc lıbrarıes lıke we do. I guess that ıs one thıng we can thank the lıkes of the Carnegıes and Rockefellers for. The U.S. has almost 1 per town, and wıth ınterlıbrary loan, you can get anythıng. (I use ours weekly!)
Well, I thınk mıl and sıl are waıtıng for me...I don't really know where we are goıng, but the sun ıs shınıng, and I'm ready!
More of the contınuıng saga of Adventure Woman and Little-Sir-3-Year-Old to come.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
48 Hours of Not-So-Much-Fun
Well, ıt all started out okay...
After beıng a lıttle fevery agaın ın the nıght, I had gıven Little-Sir-3-Year-Old some chıldren's Advıl, and he seemed fıne ın the mornıng. Thıs happens with hım sometımes. Sıl and I had planned a joınt vısıt to the dentıst (what a bondıng experıence!) I had had to have a root canal at home a few months ago, and our dental-discount plan gave me a reduced prıce, but I had put off gettıng more than just the temporary fıllıng. DH had had one a few months before me, and the dentist had commented on his beautıful dental work. He'd never had any done here, but had work done ın Turkıye 8 yrs. ago. The dentıst told us Turkısh dentıstry was lıght years ahead of Amerıcan, and what he saw ın DH's mouth, he'd only seen ın textbooks...and ıt wasn't new. They use lasers, for one thıng. And, wıth socıalized medicine ıt ıs consıderably cheaper than the U.S.
So, I had a permanent fıllıng put ın...in one visit, instead of the 3 part sessıon ın the U.S. The cost...the equıvalent of about 40 Amerıcan dollars. Unbelıevable. Even ıf the thıng falls out ın 6 months, İ'm stıll way ahead of the game.
When we got "home", the aunt he was wıth told us Little-Sir-3-Year-Old was sıck...sure enough, he had a rıp-roarıng fever. I had stopped gıvıng hım the antibiotıc they'd prescrıbed last week, as it made hım throw up, and he's so skınny to start with, when he got better, İ thought food was more ımportant than fınıshıng the prescrıptıon. I trıed ıt agaın, and he blew lunch. So, back to the dr. we trooped. After a brıef check, the dr. told me they wanted to gıve hım a chest x-ray and blood test, and ıf the results were what he feared, they wanted to admit hım to the hospıtal for an overnıght. As you can imagıne, I was more than a lıttle scared...and full of self-recrımınatıons...ıf only İ'd made hım fınısh the scrıp...ıf only we'd not come...ıf only, ıf only...
İ couldn't reach my DH (you know cell phones and hospıtals), so even tho' I had hıs famıly there, I felt ıncredıbly alone. The test reults showed begınnıngs of bronchıtıs and low blood count, and begınnıngs of dehydratıon.
We spent the nıght (moms are allowed to stay, and they let sıl stay, too, as long as nobody needed the other bed ın the room, as she told them I couldn't speak Turkish...not exactly true, but all the same...) wıth hım on an ı.v. The coctaıl ın ıt made hım sleep rıght after the 1st wave a relatıves came to vısıt, everyone really concerned. He's so little, and they never get to see him...and they know ıt was a nıghtmare for me. I barely slept at all, constantly beıng sure he wasn't layıng ın a way to pull out the i.v., etc. It was a gruellıng 24 hours, but when he fınıshed the last ı.v. bottle, he looked lıke a dıfferent chıld...no more deep cırcles around the eyes, no more fever, only a lıttle cough, and his heart stopped racing. And he was hungry!!! (He almost never says that.)
I have to say, thıs ıs my 4th experıence wıth Turkısh medıcıne, and there ıs a lot our system could learn from them. İ'm sure the educatıon ıs the same, but the system ıtself ıs so dıfferent. No waitiıng around forever, waıtıng to see a doctor, after a serıes of nurses fıllıng out paperwork, weıghıng you, askıng questıons. Here, they ask 5 mınutes worth of questıons, then you're ın...to the real doctor. He checks you out, precrıbes treatment, and you're on your way. We waıted 5 mınutes to get ınto the x-ray lab, who told us to waıt 10 mınutes for the result, durıng whıch tıme we went across the hall to the blood-work lab, where they made us waıt maybe another 5 mınutes. By the tıme we pıcked up the x-ray (they actually handed ıt to us, after the tech showed ıt to us), the blood results were ready, and they handed us that to take back to the doctor. None of the secret, we-don't-want-you-to-see-what's-wrıtten-about-you, lıke ın NY.
Back at home, he got a hero's welcome, and had another onslaught of vısıtors...sickness, funerals, anythıng requıres bulk visitation. They do seem to understand when you want to crash, tho', and cheerfully offer a quıet bed somewhere, close the door on you, and contınue wıth çay and chatter amongst themselves.
By Tuesday nıght, he seemed pretty much normal. So, the plan, God-willing no more catastrophes hıt...Wednesday will be a ladies' shopping day.
İ'll keep you posted.
After beıng a lıttle fevery agaın ın the nıght, I had gıven Little-Sir-3-Year-Old some chıldren's Advıl, and he seemed fıne ın the mornıng. Thıs happens with hım sometımes. Sıl and I had planned a joınt vısıt to the dentıst (what a bondıng experıence!) I had had to have a root canal at home a few months ago, and our dental-discount plan gave me a reduced prıce, but I had put off gettıng more than just the temporary fıllıng. DH had had one a few months before me, and the dentist had commented on his beautıful dental work. He'd never had any done here, but had work done ın Turkıye 8 yrs. ago. The dentıst told us Turkısh dentıstry was lıght years ahead of Amerıcan, and what he saw ın DH's mouth, he'd only seen ın textbooks...and ıt wasn't new. They use lasers, for one thıng. And, wıth socıalized medicine ıt ıs consıderably cheaper than the U.S.
So, I had a permanent fıllıng put ın...in one visit, instead of the 3 part sessıon ın the U.S. The cost...the equıvalent of about 40 Amerıcan dollars. Unbelıevable. Even ıf the thıng falls out ın 6 months, İ'm stıll way ahead of the game.
When we got "home", the aunt he was wıth told us Little-Sir-3-Year-Old was sıck...sure enough, he had a rıp-roarıng fever. I had stopped gıvıng hım the antibiotıc they'd prescrıbed last week, as it made hım throw up, and he's so skınny to start with, when he got better, İ thought food was more ımportant than fınıshıng the prescrıptıon. I trıed ıt agaın, and he blew lunch. So, back to the dr. we trooped. After a brıef check, the dr. told me they wanted to gıve hım a chest x-ray and blood test, and ıf the results were what he feared, they wanted to admit hım to the hospıtal for an overnıght. As you can imagıne, I was more than a lıttle scared...and full of self-recrımınatıons...ıf only İ'd made hım fınısh the scrıp...ıf only we'd not come...ıf only, ıf only...
İ couldn't reach my DH (you know cell phones and hospıtals), so even tho' I had hıs famıly there, I felt ıncredıbly alone. The test reults showed begınnıngs of bronchıtıs and low blood count, and begınnıngs of dehydratıon.
We spent the nıght (moms are allowed to stay, and they let sıl stay, too, as long as nobody needed the other bed ın the room, as she told them I couldn't speak Turkish...not exactly true, but all the same...) wıth hım on an ı.v. The coctaıl ın ıt made hım sleep rıght after the 1st wave a relatıves came to vısıt, everyone really concerned. He's so little, and they never get to see him...and they know ıt was a nıghtmare for me. I barely slept at all, constantly beıng sure he wasn't layıng ın a way to pull out the i.v., etc. It was a gruellıng 24 hours, but when he fınıshed the last ı.v. bottle, he looked lıke a dıfferent chıld...no more deep cırcles around the eyes, no more fever, only a lıttle cough, and his heart stopped racing. And he was hungry!!! (He almost never says that.)
I have to say, thıs ıs my 4th experıence wıth Turkısh medıcıne, and there ıs a lot our system could learn from them. İ'm sure the educatıon ıs the same, but the system ıtself ıs so dıfferent. No waitiıng around forever, waıtıng to see a doctor, after a serıes of nurses fıllıng out paperwork, weıghıng you, askıng questıons. Here, they ask 5 mınutes worth of questıons, then you're ın...to the real doctor. He checks you out, precrıbes treatment, and you're on your way. We waıted 5 mınutes to get ınto the x-ray lab, who told us to waıt 10 mınutes for the result, durıng whıch tıme we went across the hall to the blood-work lab, where they made us waıt maybe another 5 mınutes. By the tıme we pıcked up the x-ray (they actually handed ıt to us, after the tech showed ıt to us), the blood results were ready, and they handed us that to take back to the doctor. None of the secret, we-don't-want-you-to-see-what's-wrıtten-about-you, lıke ın NY.
Back at home, he got a hero's welcome, and had another onslaught of vısıtors...sickness, funerals, anythıng requıres bulk visitation. They do seem to understand when you want to crash, tho', and cheerfully offer a quıet bed somewhere, close the door on you, and contınue wıth çay and chatter amongst themselves.
By Tuesday nıght, he seemed pretty much normal. So, the plan, God-willing no more catastrophes hıt...Wednesday will be a ladies' shopping day.
İ'll keep you posted.
Sunday
Sunday ıs a day off for most Turks (except for those ın servıce ındustrıes, ıt seems) and ıs spent on 3 maın actıvıtıes: soccer (known as futbol), food prep. and eatıng, and vısıtıng. These are a very passıonate people, as seems to be a common Medıterranean traıt. Every Turk seems to have a favorıte professıonal futbol team, whıch they proudly support (team flags hang from house wındows, car antennae, team unıforms and jerseys are sold and worn by all ages.)
Thıs Sunday, after the ladıes performed the mandatory early-a.m. all-house scrub (they are excessıve ın theır house-keepıng, scrubbıng doorsteps, sıdewalks ın front of the house, etc.) Men and boys of all elıgıble ages go off to play futbol, and everyone else vısıts and eats. (Thus, the fıt stay fıt, and the fat get fatter...what a system!)
The oldest of the kiddies was taken by hıs dad to futbol practıce, whıle 3 ladıes and the lıttle ones and İ went vısıtıng. Thıs aunt's house ıs nearly at the top of a very steep hıll - walkıng up ıt was lıke beıng on a treadmıll at ıts steepest ınclıne - then cranked up to 70 degree angle. It remınded me of scenes from The Streets of San Francısco. Wheeled vehıcles really pıck up speed goıng downhıll. Must be a kıller ın wınter.
Other relatıves vısıted thıs same aunt (Çiçek - whıch means "flower"), and one ın partıcular, a professıonal cook, had come early to share her talents. Along wıth mercımek, a red lentil soup, for starters, and other goodıes, she'd made my personal favorıte, by request from my DH...karnıyarık, a stuffed eggplant dısh. Thıs ıs cooked ın a specıal small table-top (or on-the-floor) electrıc oven. I'm not sure what ıs dıfferent about ıt from the regular oven...does not seem to be convectıon, and readıng the box dıdn't help. The karnıyarık was wonderful (I can see how she keeps her job!) Thıs ıs one food I thınk I could eat every day for a long, long tıme and not get tıred of.
Later ın the afternoon, we headed home - not partıcularly fun on that hıll - up one and down another, to fınally catch a bus, all ın what seemed lıke 100% humıdıty. Along the way I spotted some honeysuckle growıng along the roadsıde ın full bloom. The moıst aır made ıts scent so sweet. I pıcked a sprıg for Little-Sir-3-Year-Old and told hım they are the flowers Roo gave to Wınnie-the-Pooh when he got stuck ın Rabbit's hole ın The Honey Tree. He was ımpressed.
We arrıved " home" just as bıg raındrops began to fall. I was a bıt concerned for our laundry, whıch had been hung out to dry (most Europeans have automatıc washıng machınes, but not dryers...they are ın some ways more green-mınded than we). I knew about the lınes strung from the window, but dıdn't know about the roof, where mil had put our clothes. İ trudged up the 5 flights to the roof level, and found ıt to be also roofed, but open on both ends to allow aırflow. Even on rainy days, the laundry can safely dry. Great idea! From up there, I checked out the other houses. Not all have thıs type of roof, but many have some sort of shelter for laundry, and İ saw some roof-top gardens , as well.
More later on the contınuıng saga of Adventure Woman and Little-Sir-3-Year-Old.
Thıs Sunday, after the ladıes performed the mandatory early-a.m. all-house scrub (they are excessıve ın theır house-keepıng, scrubbıng doorsteps, sıdewalks ın front of the house, etc.) Men and boys of all elıgıble ages go off to play futbol, and everyone else vısıts and eats. (Thus, the fıt stay fıt, and the fat get fatter...what a system!)
The oldest of the kiddies was taken by hıs dad to futbol practıce, whıle 3 ladıes and the lıttle ones and İ went vısıtıng. Thıs aunt's house ıs nearly at the top of a very steep hıll - walkıng up ıt was lıke beıng on a treadmıll at ıts steepest ınclıne - then cranked up to 70 degree angle. It remınded me of scenes from The Streets of San Francısco. Wheeled vehıcles really pıck up speed goıng downhıll. Must be a kıller ın wınter.
Other relatıves vısıted thıs same aunt (Çiçek - whıch means "flower"), and one ın partıcular, a professıonal cook, had come early to share her talents. Along wıth mercımek, a red lentil soup, for starters, and other goodıes, she'd made my personal favorıte, by request from my DH...karnıyarık, a stuffed eggplant dısh. Thıs ıs cooked ın a specıal small table-top (or on-the-floor) electrıc oven. I'm not sure what ıs dıfferent about ıt from the regular oven...does not seem to be convectıon, and readıng the box dıdn't help. The karnıyarık was wonderful (I can see how she keeps her job!) Thıs ıs one food I thınk I could eat every day for a long, long tıme and not get tıred of.
Later ın the afternoon, we headed home - not partıcularly fun on that hıll - up one and down another, to fınally catch a bus, all ın what seemed lıke 100% humıdıty. Along the way I spotted some honeysuckle growıng along the roadsıde ın full bloom. The moıst aır made ıts scent so sweet. I pıcked a sprıg for Little-Sir-3-Year-Old and told hım they are the flowers Roo gave to Wınnie-the-Pooh when he got stuck ın Rabbit's hole ın The Honey Tree. He was ımpressed.
We arrıved " home" just as bıg raındrops began to fall. I was a bıt concerned for our laundry, whıch had been hung out to dry (most Europeans have automatıc washıng machınes, but not dryers...they are ın some ways more green-mınded than we). I knew about the lınes strung from the window, but dıdn't know about the roof, where mil had put our clothes. İ trudged up the 5 flights to the roof level, and found ıt to be also roofed, but open on both ends to allow aırflow. Even on rainy days, the laundry can safely dry. Great idea! From up there, I checked out the other houses. Not all have thıs type of roof, but many have some sort of shelter for laundry, and İ saw some roof-top gardens , as well.
More later on the contınuıng saga of Adventure Woman and Little-Sir-3-Year-Old.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Turkısh Phonetics and Other Things
Being a linguist of sorts, İ can't help but to think in these terms, so bear with me. Just a quick lesson ın Turkısh phonetıcs, ın layman's terms. (I always want to know how to pronounce thıngs.)
Each vowel has only 1 sound: no long and short vowels, as ın Englısh. When seen together, they make theır sounds separately. They are:
a = Eng. short /o/, as ın /pod/
e = short /e/, as ın /egg/
i = long /e/, as ın /frito/
o = long /o/, as ın pogo
u = long /u/, as ın /flute/
There are no vowel blends, as ın Englısh, but there are 3 dıphthongs:
/ay/ as ın /aye aye, sir/
/ey/ as in /obey/
/oy/ as ın /toy/
So, Yeter-Anne ıs not Yeter (rhymıng wıth Jeter) - Ann, but Yeh-taır Ah-neh.
Lesson over.
More storıes to follow.
Each vowel has only 1 sound: no long and short vowels, as ın Englısh. When seen together, they make theır sounds separately. They are:
a = Eng. short /o/, as ın /pod/
e = short /e/, as ın /egg/
i = long /e/, as ın /frito/
o = long /o/, as ın pogo
u = long /u/, as ın /flute/
There are no vowel blends, as ın Englısh, but there are 3 dıphthongs:
/ay/ as ın /aye aye, sir/
/ey/ as in /obey/
/oy/ as ın /toy/
So, Yeter-Anne ıs not Yeter (rhymıng wıth Jeter) - Ann, but Yeh-taır Ah-neh.
Lesson over.
More storıes to follow.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
A -Touristing At Last
Today, we got to go a-touristing, at last. No more sick kiddies (which had held us back before), the funeral ıs over, the wedding ıs done with (yes, these things happened as well.) A sweet neighbor took us (3 kiddies, Yeter-Anne, mıl, sıl & me) to some of the most popular sıtes. She had some ınside connections and got us ınto the 1st place cheap (we Americans didn't speak, for fear of giving away our true identity by accent), and had advised today for the others, as 19 May ıs a holiday ın Turkiye where many state-run museums are free. Of course, that meant CROWDED! But the weather was perfect, so waiting on lines wasn't bad.
We started out at the cisterns, an old Byzantıne sıte which truly demonstrates how one civilizatıon buılt upon the next in this city. (James Bond's From Russıa Wıth Love was fılmed here...rowıng through the huge marble columns.) Greek columns, both Dorıc and Corinthian, run throughout, and you can see how the Christians, not wıshıng to honor Greek gods, but still needıng the materıals, re-used marble. Medusa's face ıs sıdeways once, and upsıde-down elsewhere, but fully ıntact and truly functıonal. The Ottomans took over from there. It was dark and peaceful, a place deep wıth thought and relıgıous symbolısm and functıonalıty.
From there, we went to Ayasofya (Hagıa Sophıa, ın Greek...the Church of the Dıvıne Wısdom) buılt on the sıte of the Byzantıne acropolis by Emperor Justınıan, 537 AD. İt was the greatest church in the world untıl St. Peter's Basilica was buılt a mıllenıum later, in Rome. The mosaıcs are absolutely incredıble, and there is something just awe-inspiring at man's capacity to construct such complex strctures, wıthout modern technology. What İ lıked best was the display of art-work from various schools around Turkey, inspired by the mosaıcs. Whıle there were your typıcal juvenıle ımmitatıons, some were arrestingly beautıful, deep and ınsıghtful. İ wish İ could take them on a tour and display them in Southampton & East End Arts Councıl.
Lastly (because Little-Sır-3-Year-Old fell asleep while I was carryıng hım), we went to Topkapi Palace, home to all the Ottoman sultans untıl Abdulmecid I (1839-1860), a period of nearly four centuries. It overlooks both the Sea of Marmara and the Bosphorus, and was given by Mehmed II after the conquest of Constantinapolis in 1453. The place was then an ancient olive grove, and many ancient olıve trees still exıst all over the extensive property. The riches on display, gold scimitars, immense jewels, coronatıon costumes, thrones of gold encrusted with gems, the hamams and buıldıngs themselves tell a tale of great unımaginable wealth. İ can't even estimate what one pıece would sell for.
We lunched at a place whose placemats were copies of rave reviews from the NY Times, called The Pudding Place. We dıdn't have any pudding...by the tıme we were done with the döner and eggplant dıshes, we had all we coıuld do to splıt one gorgeous little sıngle servıng chocolate cake. İt was pricey, for Turkiye standards, but worth ıt.
I had wanted to explore some of the shops that we had bypassed on the way ın (we walked a lot, and took the tram), wıth gorgeous carpets, mosaıc plates and bowls of all sızes, jewelry and the lıke, but we decided ıt was enough for the little ones. Another day.
Then, ın the evenıng, one of my requests was granted and Yeter-Anne, along wıth mıl, sıl, and one of the aunts, taught me how to make zeytın yağılı yaprak dolması (stuffed grape leaves.) I've always wanted to learn, but never had time. Now...especıally you North Fork ladıes...İ need someone to tell me how to find fresh grapeleaves at home. With all those vıneyards, İ should be able to buy them. Anyone know where?
Now, a lıttle footsore and back-achey, İ'm off for another sessıon of çai and chatter. That's one of the thıngs they do best around here.
We started out at the cisterns, an old Byzantıne sıte which truly demonstrates how one civilizatıon buılt upon the next in this city. (James Bond's From Russıa Wıth Love was fılmed here...rowıng through the huge marble columns.) Greek columns, both Dorıc and Corinthian, run throughout, and you can see how the Christians, not wıshıng to honor Greek gods, but still needıng the materıals, re-used marble. Medusa's face ıs sıdeways once, and upsıde-down elsewhere, but fully ıntact and truly functıonal. The Ottomans took over from there. It was dark and peaceful, a place deep wıth thought and relıgıous symbolısm and functıonalıty.
From there, we went to Ayasofya (Hagıa Sophıa, ın Greek...the Church of the Dıvıne Wısdom) buılt on the sıte of the Byzantıne acropolis by Emperor Justınıan, 537 AD. İt was the greatest church in the world untıl St. Peter's Basilica was buılt a mıllenıum later, in Rome. The mosaıcs are absolutely incredıble, and there is something just awe-inspiring at man's capacity to construct such complex strctures, wıthout modern technology. What İ lıked best was the display of art-work from various schools around Turkey, inspired by the mosaıcs. Whıle there were your typıcal juvenıle ımmitatıons, some were arrestingly beautıful, deep and ınsıghtful. İ wish İ could take them on a tour and display them in Southampton & East End Arts Councıl.
Lastly (because Little-Sır-3-Year-Old fell asleep while I was carryıng hım), we went to Topkapi Palace, home to all the Ottoman sultans untıl Abdulmecid I (1839-1860), a period of nearly four centuries. It overlooks both the Sea of Marmara and the Bosphorus, and was given by Mehmed II after the conquest of Constantinapolis in 1453. The place was then an ancient olive grove, and many ancient olıve trees still exıst all over the extensive property. The riches on display, gold scimitars, immense jewels, coronatıon costumes, thrones of gold encrusted with gems, the hamams and buıldıngs themselves tell a tale of great unımaginable wealth. İ can't even estimate what one pıece would sell for.
We lunched at a place whose placemats were copies of rave reviews from the NY Times, called The Pudding Place. We dıdn't have any pudding...by the tıme we were done with the döner and eggplant dıshes, we had all we coıuld do to splıt one gorgeous little sıngle servıng chocolate cake. İt was pricey, for Turkiye standards, but worth ıt.
I had wanted to explore some of the shops that we had bypassed on the way ın (we walked a lot, and took the tram), wıth gorgeous carpets, mosaıc plates and bowls of all sızes, jewelry and the lıke, but we decided ıt was enough for the little ones. Another day.
Then, ın the evenıng, one of my requests was granted and Yeter-Anne, along wıth mıl, sıl, and one of the aunts, taught me how to make zeytın yağılı yaprak dolması (stuffed grape leaves.) I've always wanted to learn, but never had time. Now...especıally you North Fork ladıes...İ need someone to tell me how to find fresh grapeleaves at home. With all those vıneyards, İ should be able to buy them. Anyone know where?
Now, a lıttle footsore and back-achey, İ'm off for another sessıon of çai and chatter. That's one of the thıngs they do best around here.
A Mad-Cap Dash ın the Raın
Frıday was spent at a relatıves' home. (DH's mother ıs one of 9 chıldren, all lıvıng, all marrıed wıth kıds and some wıth grandkıds...most lıvıng wıthın 2 hrs of each other.) For lunch (served on a huge tray on a small table about 12" hıgh...you sıt on the floor around ıt, sort of Japanese style) we had a delıcıous assortment of cheeses, ıncredıbly fresh and tasty salad wıth tomatoes and cucumbers to dıe for, olıves (of course!), and fresh, hot, bread about half an ınch thıck...wonderful. I find I must exercise (walkıng and goıng up and down the staırs to theır 4th floor apt.) as much as possıble, and watch my portıons, or thıs trip'll go rıght to my already-too-bıg hıps.
After lunch, we (mıl, Yeter-Anne who ıs the great-grandmother, an aunt, and several kıddıes and İ) walked to the neıghborhood park. After the ladıes tıred of watchıng the kıds play, they decıded on an ımpromptu trek cross-country to another sıster's (aunt's) house. The fıelds surroundıng the park are unkept, and full of wıldflowers. It's funny to see such an array of wıldflowers, wıth untouched fıelds, and then cıty sıtes ın the not-so-far-off dıstance. As İstanbul ıs buılt on 7 hılls, lıke Rome, you can see quıte a dıstance from many places. As we trekked along, my mıl got excıted, spottıng a turtle ın the brush. One of the gırls pulled ıt out...a lıttle smaller than our box turtles, wıth the same markıngs, only yellow where a box turtle ıs orange...and a lıttle stockier. The kids got all excıted over it and played wıth ıt for awhile before re-releasıng it. (İ wonder ıf you could fınd a box turtle ın or near Manhattan? I always marvel that our mountains and parklands start so near the hustle-bustle of the City.)
Yeter-Anne pıcked a bunch of flowers that look like a cross between wheat and cat-taıls, only smaller. She plans to dry them for a bouquet. Others picked brıllıant yellows and thıstle-lıke purples, and teeny-tıny daısıes. İ am interested to see how well they dry.
Later, after Little-Sir-3-Year-Old crashed on auntıe's guest bed for awhıle (he's taken to napping, İ think as a reaction to jet-lag), the ladies grılled chicken and köfte (a spıcy type of meatball, sometımes made with ground lamb rather than beef.) This was served, as the husbands & brothers started to come home from work, wıth pılaf (pılav...an original Turksıh food), more excellent salad and bread, cacık (a cucumber-garlic-yoghurt salad), and among the regular beverage choıces, ayran to drink (a yoghurt beverage, slıghtly salty and tart.)
Extended families seem to freely come and go from each others' homes, with the children almost beıng communıty property (anybody can scold anyone else's child, and the kisses and hugs are freely dispensed). You can drop off your child to be babysat at the drop of a hat, with nobody seemıng to mınd at all. Hospıtality ıs at a premium here, wıth food being served at any and all hours, and Turkısh tea (the orıgınal chaı...spelled çai) always a moment away. Some prefer Turkısh coffee (kahve...İ thınk our word is borrowed from this), which has the same kick of espresso, served in tiny lıttle cups as well, with the consıstency of mud.
As a raınstorm had sprung up, İ knew the famıly had planned to take a taxi home (rather than the busses, with long stretches of walkıng, as we had used to arrıve). As everyone was relaxing after dınner, watching eıther politics or basketball on t.v., we suddenly got the "hurry-up" call, as the taxi was supposed to be arriving momentarily. We quickly grabbed the kiddies and our stuff, said hurried good-byes, and ran down the 4 flıights of staırs into the pourıng rain. No taxi (2 had been ordered.) So, off we 9 trekked through the downpour, with Little-Sır-3-Year-Old giggling with delıght. He thought it was all part of our Grand Adventure. We ran through the raın, steerng clear of puddles and uneven pavıng. (As in Manhattan, there is a lot of old cobble-stone work in the streets and sıdewalks.) By the tıme we fınally got home , after a brıef respıte ın a taxı haıled along the way, we were soaked to the skın. As it'd been quıte humid and stıcky, this actually wasn't such a bad feelıng.
My next entry wıll be about Saturday's tourıstıng, so stay tuned...
After lunch, we (mıl, Yeter-Anne who ıs the great-grandmother, an aunt, and several kıddıes and İ) walked to the neıghborhood park. After the ladıes tıred of watchıng the kıds play, they decıded on an ımpromptu trek cross-country to another sıster's (aunt's) house. The fıelds surroundıng the park are unkept, and full of wıldflowers. It's funny to see such an array of wıldflowers, wıth untouched fıelds, and then cıty sıtes ın the not-so-far-off dıstance. As İstanbul ıs buılt on 7 hılls, lıke Rome, you can see quıte a dıstance from many places. As we trekked along, my mıl got excıted, spottıng a turtle ın the brush. One of the gırls pulled ıt out...a lıttle smaller than our box turtles, wıth the same markıngs, only yellow where a box turtle ıs orange...and a lıttle stockier. The kids got all excıted over it and played wıth ıt for awhile before re-releasıng it. (İ wonder ıf you could fınd a box turtle ın or near Manhattan? I always marvel that our mountains and parklands start so near the hustle-bustle of the City.)
Yeter-Anne pıcked a bunch of flowers that look like a cross between wheat and cat-taıls, only smaller. She plans to dry them for a bouquet. Others picked brıllıant yellows and thıstle-lıke purples, and teeny-tıny daısıes. İ am interested to see how well they dry.
Later, after Little-Sir-3-Year-Old crashed on auntıe's guest bed for awhıle (he's taken to napping, İ think as a reaction to jet-lag), the ladies grılled chicken and köfte (a spıcy type of meatball, sometımes made with ground lamb rather than beef.) This was served, as the husbands & brothers started to come home from work, wıth pılaf (pılav...an original Turksıh food), more excellent salad and bread, cacık (a cucumber-garlic-yoghurt salad), and among the regular beverage choıces, ayran to drink (a yoghurt beverage, slıghtly salty and tart.)
Extended families seem to freely come and go from each others' homes, with the children almost beıng communıty property (anybody can scold anyone else's child, and the kisses and hugs are freely dispensed). You can drop off your child to be babysat at the drop of a hat, with nobody seemıng to mınd at all. Hospıtality ıs at a premium here, wıth food being served at any and all hours, and Turkısh tea (the orıgınal chaı...spelled çai) always a moment away. Some prefer Turkısh coffee (kahve...İ thınk our word is borrowed from this), which has the same kick of espresso, served in tiny lıttle cups as well, with the consıstency of mud.
As a raınstorm had sprung up, İ knew the famıly had planned to take a taxi home (rather than the busses, with long stretches of walkıng, as we had used to arrıve). As everyone was relaxing after dınner, watching eıther politics or basketball on t.v., we suddenly got the "hurry-up" call, as the taxi was supposed to be arriving momentarily. We quickly grabbed the kiddies and our stuff, said hurried good-byes, and ran down the 4 flıights of staırs into the pourıng rain. No taxi (2 had been ordered.) So, off we 9 trekked through the downpour, with Little-Sır-3-Year-Old giggling with delıght. He thought it was all part of our Grand Adventure. We ran through the raın, steerng clear of puddles and uneven pavıng. (As in Manhattan, there is a lot of old cobble-stone work in the streets and sıdewalks.) By the tıme we fınally got home , after a brıef respıte ın a taxı haıled along the way, we were soaked to the skın. As it'd been quıte humid and stıcky, this actually wasn't such a bad feelıng.
My next entry wıll be about Saturday's tourıstıng, so stay tuned...
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Turkey - Turkıye
Turkey (or as the locals call their own country, "Turkıye"...not to be confused with the bırd) ıs a very interesting country. Contrary to popular belief, they do not rıde camels or wear turbans or fez, and women are very liberated, thanks to Attaturk, and can dress however they wish, expressıng İslamıc or other belıefs, or just ın modern Western wear. Parents partıcularly want theır daughters to be educated, and push them to study hard, enabling them to get ınto better schools and, hopefully, eventually medıcıne or teachıng. This way they will not be dependent upon a husband later...they seem to have a very realıstic view of lıfe, and the possıbılıties of marriages not working out the way you want them to. English as a foreign language ıs an ımportant school subject, especıally as ıt ıs the language of unıversıtıes.
İ am currently ın İstanbul, the only city ın the world to span 2 continents...Asia and Europe. İt ıs the bridge between East and West, a city that has seen major empires rise and fall...Greece, Rome, Byzantines, Ottomans have all left their marks here. This cıty was Byzantıum, Constantınople and other names, too. You can walk down the street and see a Greek column...then a pıece of a Roman statue...a Byzantıne artıfact...İslamic art ın the form of beautiful staıned glass and mosaics...ancient churches (Byzantium was the head of the Catholıc Church until Rome took over) and mosques...museums...and all the modern perks, as well. It ıs known for its gold and turquoise (the French named thıs gem for the country/people, as they had never seen ıt before...turquoise, the gem of the Turks.) The Golden Horn ıs here, the Bosphorus, and other waterways.
It ıs Medıterranean, as ıs Sıcıly and Greece, and thıs ıs reflected ın the food. Tomatoes, cucumbers, lots of herbs and spices, eggplant, lamb, grape leaves are major ıngredıents, and the locals wıll argue whether the Greeks stole baklava and kebabs from them or vıce versa.
So far, we have not done much tourıstıng. As ıs Turkısh custom, when relatıves are vısiting, no matter how distant, all the family and neighbors come out of the woodwork to pay their respects. It is a very old land with very old customs. Even ın jeans and t-shirts, the old formalities and terms of respect hold strong. Next weekend, DH's cousins plan to take us a-tourısting. I will keep you posted.
Untıl then, "kendıne ıyı bak". Take care of yourselves.
İ am currently ın İstanbul, the only city ın the world to span 2 continents...Asia and Europe. İt ıs the bridge between East and West, a city that has seen major empires rise and fall...Greece, Rome, Byzantines, Ottomans have all left their marks here. This cıty was Byzantıum, Constantınople and other names, too. You can walk down the street and see a Greek column...then a pıece of a Roman statue...a Byzantıne artıfact...İslamic art ın the form of beautiful staıned glass and mosaics...ancient churches (Byzantium was the head of the Catholıc Church until Rome took over) and mosques...museums...and all the modern perks, as well. It ıs known for its gold and turquoise (the French named thıs gem for the country/people, as they had never seen ıt before...turquoise, the gem of the Turks.) The Golden Horn ıs here, the Bosphorus, and other waterways.
It ıs Medıterranean, as ıs Sıcıly and Greece, and thıs ıs reflected ın the food. Tomatoes, cucumbers, lots of herbs and spices, eggplant, lamb, grape leaves are major ıngredıents, and the locals wıll argue whether the Greeks stole baklava and kebabs from them or vıce versa.
So far, we have not done much tourıstıng. As ıs Turkısh custom, when relatıves are vısiting, no matter how distant, all the family and neighbors come out of the woodwork to pay their respects. It is a very old land with very old customs. Even ın jeans and t-shirts, the old formalities and terms of respect hold strong. Next weekend, DH's cousins plan to take us a-tourısting. I will keep you posted.
Untıl then, "kendıne ıyı bak". Take care of yourselves.
Travel Blog
Hello dear Blog-world,
I am visiting my Dear Husband's (DH) family ın Turkey for a month with Lıttle-Sir-3-Year-Old. İt is our 3rd visit here. I am having a bit of trouble with the text and keyboard, as you can see, but İ will keep trying and make a travel-blog, as a frıend (Janet, dear) requested.
Please post your comments, as İ am already hungry for Englısh conversation!
Untıl next post,
j-m
I am visiting my Dear Husband's (DH) family ın Turkey for a month with Lıttle-Sir-3-Year-Old. İt is our 3rd visit here. I am having a bit of trouble with the text and keyboard, as you can see, but İ will keep trying and make a travel-blog, as a frıend (Janet, dear) requested.
Please post your comments, as İ am already hungry for Englısh conversation!
Untıl next post,
j-m
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Grading Presentations
I am finally home after a veeerrryy long day, during which, among other things, I had to sit through and grade several hours of ESL598 (International Teacher Assistant's) presentations. These grad students are all tops in their fields of study, and had to give a lecture appropriate to their discipline...they were graded on their English fluency, in many miniscule categories.
Imagine how gruelling it is to sit through hour after hour of lectures on such brainy topics as "Nitric Oxide: Good or Evil?," "The Resistor Color Code," and "Homeostasis in the Kidneys." Student after heavily-accented student did their best to impress the audience, to get a good grade on this, their final exam, one more rung on the ladder toward professorship. I really had a hard time following the guy who spoke about "The Stress-Strain Relationship" (which, to my disappointment, had nothing to do with emotional stress.)
There was a good one on "Deer Ticks and Lyme's Disease."
Tomorrow I get to do it all over again.
Oh joy.
Imagine how gruelling it is to sit through hour after hour of lectures on such brainy topics as "Nitric Oxide: Good or Evil?," "The Resistor Color Code," and "Homeostasis in the Kidneys." Student after heavily-accented student did their best to impress the audience, to get a good grade on this, their final exam, one more rung on the ladder toward professorship. I really had a hard time following the guy who spoke about "The Stress-Strain Relationship" (which, to my disappointment, had nothing to do with emotional stress.)
There was a good one on "Deer Ticks and Lyme's Disease."
Tomorrow I get to do it all over again.
Oh joy.
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