big fucking fans of ataturk

For Thanksgiving, while everyone and their mother was happily stuffing their faces full of turkey and stuffing and potatoes and other various autumnal foods, I was on a plane headed for Turkey the Country to make the most out of the five day weekend we were so graciously given by the program (the Egyptian students get a whole week off for Eid al-Adha). To be honest, no one actually remembered it was Thanksgiving until about nine o'clock that night -- I blame it mostly on the lack of anything resembling seasons in Egypt. Without crisp mornings and golden leaves fluttering down from the trees it's hard to recall that on the other side of the globe (and a few northernly degrees of latitude) it's actually nearing winter. In that respect, I feel like I've been hovering in some sort of bizarre summer camp limbo -- I hear about this miraculous thing called "snow" from my family and I while a part of my brain accepts its existence and knows it to be true, the rest of me can't quite make the connection that HELLO IT IS DECEMBER NOW.

So let me briefly recount my Turkish adventure for you all. I will begin with this simple fact: I love Istanbul. I have only found two cities in my entire life that I would happily, willingly, relocate to (the first being Vienna, Austria) and considering how picky I am about these sorts of things it's rather amazing that Istanbul comes into second place. It was quite a shock to step off the metro and not see trash littering the real sidewalks. Also, I must add that I love the colder weather -- fifty degrees Fahrenheit is just about right for a nice jacket and some boots (I had no boots). Take note, Egyptians: seventy degrees is not appropriate winter sweater weather.

We stayed in a tiny hole-in-the-wall place called the Hotel Sultan's Inn, in Sultanahmet. It was just about the most adorable little cosy place on earth, complete with flushing toilet, TP, a shower with a door, and a mattress. Oh, and the rooftop terrace with stunning views of the Blue Mosque (and let's not forget the continental breakfast!). Our digs were walking distance to nearly everything touristy -- the Blue Mosque, the Aya Sofia, Topkapi (it's not really an i) Palace, the metro. Yes, we played tourist (in English!) and literally walked nine or ten hours a day, lost exploring the city largely thanks to the incredibly unhelpful and out-of-scale maps that Lonely Planet provides in their otherwise handy guidebooks.

Comparing the Blue Mosque and the Aya Sofia is something everyone who visits Istanbul does, and I guess I'm not interested in playing the exception, so: Blue Mosque looks like a cathedral, inside. As Lonely Planet puts it, the dome is held up by four giant "elephant's feet" pillars, and really, that's kind of what they look like. The architecture is amazing and the painting/details are breathtaking, inside and outside. In contrast, the Aya Sofia looks dumpy from the outside, with its faded paint and less striking minarets. But inside, there's no competition. Aya Sofia, with its dome supported by pillars internal to the walls, wins hands down in terms of sheer beauty. The paintings and mosaics of the Holy Family and other assorted Christian divine figures are gorgeous, and while it's impossible to miss the fact that somewhere along the line it was converted into a mosque, you can still see the obvious Christian influence on the structure. I liked the Blue Mosque on the outside -- on the inside, I prefer the Aya Sofia.

We also headed up across the Galata Bridge to seek out nourishment and other sights, one night of which culminated with our meeting Istanbul's oldest hippie on a side street at eleven at night. He makes necklaces and miniature paintings (sometimes both at the same time!) and listens to Pink Floyd, and buys nice American girls freshly squeeze green apple juice from a nearby fruit vendor. He also had about eight or nine books of Larousse stacked up on his shelves, and a part of me wonders if I spoke French he could have explained what he meant by "I am everyone's mother" and "I feel something here, in my chest" better than he did in English.

One sad thing was that because of the Eid, the Grand Bazaar was closed for three days. So no overly cheap shopping! That didn't stop us from spending copious amounts of money on parachute pants, apple tea, jewelry, ceramics, and chocolate baklava in other corners of Istanbul. Also, Chelsea and I got happily lost in the rain around the Grand Bazaar, so while we never got lost inside as most tourists do, we certainly did wander around the narrow alleyways of the outskirts, eventually making our way in a complete circle and finding Istanbul University by sheer chance.

Gotta say, getting back on that plane to Egypt was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Three more weeks of this shit* and then it's time for Vienna.

* By "this shit" I really just mean the (appallingly horrendous) academics. If I didn't have to write five papers in two weeks I would be okay.

another truckstop on the way another game that I can play another word I learn to say

another blasted customs post another bloody foreign coast another set of scars to boast

WE ARE THE ROAD CREW