To Chicken for Chicken

Since arriving in Istanbul you may be surprised to note that I am eating fruit, mostly oranges, I still can’t get past the awful texture of apples and pears. Further more if a dish has vegetables, like lettuce in a sandwich, or some tomato based sauce, I don’t remove it or pick it off.  For those of you with normal eating habits this may seem like no big deal but for me its progress. Egg plant has a weird texture but is pretty good to taste even though I failed at cooking it by adding way to much oil because the plant absorbs it, when I bit into it I found out I was essentially eating pure olive oil, in addition to undercooking it. After watching my roommate make some up I now know that you can let it soak up a bit of oil and basically brown it dark like an overcooked hash brown and then it tastes okay.

My first week in Istanbul, I ate no meat and no sugar. Why you may ask? Well because I speak no Turkish. I spent most of my first week dreading shopping in the corner market because I feel like an idiot not speaking the local language. This being said the need for cookies helped me to overcome this little bump in my bravery.

Cut me some slack. Everyone has continued to ask me if I am “AFRAID”: To go alone, to be away for so long, to travel as a single woman, to encounter large insects, to be stopped at the border, of a terrorist attack, to fly, for the plane to crash. I have come to the conclusion that a lot of people worry an awful lot. However I guess I have my own hang ups. I am not afraid of any of the above things, not to say I wouldn’t have fear if someone shoved a bomb at me, the captain announced that the plain was going down, or I found some huge icky bug in my travel boot, but these are not things I dwell on or worry about until they are actually happening. What I was afraid of was shopping and eating out.

Now while all of you people worried that I was going to get the plague or something might ask “Why is that so scary?” Well most of the fears people have asked me about having, are not really that likely to happen, and as for theft or loss of documents. I have pretty much take all the steps I can to prevent it. Shopping is unavoidable. It is easy to get ripped off and I’m used to the North American attitude of “Why can’t you just speak English already?” As Canadians we may or may not be as bad as the USA for this but the frustration I have seen people display toward people who can not speak clear English was something I was afraid of coming into contact here not speaking Turkish.

I found myself mostly sticking to street stalls in tourist areas for my shopping this left me on a diet of mostly, bread eggs, and what I liked on the local vegetable cart. A week of low protein left me wanting Fried Chicken in the worst way. I walked past the place every day just to scared to go in and order something. Some part of had this irrational fear of being chased out of the establishment by an angry Turkish manager shouting “Come back when you have an education in my country.” Now this doesn’t happen to people who can’t speak English at home either so it was completely not logical for me to think this way, but having been in customer service I’ve seen enough awkward situations due to language barriers arise to strike me with a little fear.

One additional thing that put me off was fashion. I didn’t travel with much and places around here are fancy! People are fancy. McDonalds, Starbucks, and the fried chicken place all host designer furniture, and chandler lighting. Yes my friends there is a chandler in McDonalds. I have been doing a boastful job of blending in and keeping a low profile. Going into places like these and asking for “Table for one” in English just freaked me right out. Then of course the awkward sitting alone part for half an hour while waiting for food didn’t really put me at ease either. Defeated I went home, in the dark, in the rain, with out my chicken, to eat plain pasta and a hard boiled egg.  Yes folks the jury has spoken, in my case the egg did come before the chicken.

 For most people the thing that gives them confidence is facing their fears. Being the odd duck that I am, the thing that gives me the most confidence is getting around the fear. If I don’t actually ever have to face my fear then logically there is nothing to be afraid of… at least by my logic or maybe that’s just overcoming things by pure denial. Thank god for technology! There is a delivery service online that will bring you anything you want for little to no additional charge and they even speak English when they call you one the phone! YAY FRIED CHICKEN! Enter address, phone number, what you want from where you want it, and 45 minutes later it appears magically at my door. Ha ha I win! Now of course I didn’t come to Istanbul to sit indoors and order fried chicken, but that being said it’s nice to know that I have the option to do so.

So tonight I went out to my first place to eat alone and ordered a steak. I picked a small down to earth little place. Where the service was bad and the food wasn’t all that great, but some reason that made me feel better about not speaking Turkish. After waiting close to an hour for my food, the waiter comes up and says “Sorry, more personal, I together okay?” by which I think he was trying to say was “Sorry I thought you were waiting for another person, is it okay that I brought your bread and food together.” The food wasn’t particularly good, or bad, just standard, but now I’ve done it, tomorrow is Friday and I am going to another place that I keep walking by with the look of a sad puppy.  I just know from watching the place that the food is going to be awesome.

So what this means for me is that I am not all that brave, but sometimes it’s hard to be when you are alone. Also now any chance I would have had of losing weight from not eating meat is gone since I’m now not afraid to order it. That’s my little culture shock. Bon appetite

A girl's day in Istanbul

Istanbul is a city where opera is played while cleaning the house. No one talks about the latest episode of shows XYZ on TV because life is simply dramatic enough. Social engagements are the entertainment of choice, and cars defiantly and I mean defiantly! have the right of way.

The relatively pleasant weather we had in the first week I arrived has been replaced by the more typical cloud and gloom of winter. Not that I am complaining given how people have been suffering with the cold back home. After all it is raining here and unless your house is being washed away from the rain the average Manitobian isn’t likely to give you any sympathy for having some rainy weather in January.

Istanbul is a city of little shops. There are shops for lamps, and shops for juice, and shops for vegetables, and shops for pastries, shops for dried goods, shops for bread and shops for chicken sandwiches. The concept of “Super store” is not one that has caught on here. You shop daily not weekly, and the panhandlers here 9 times out of 10 tend to be stray cats. Which you inevitability end up sharing your daily shopping with.

At home the Mani/Pedi is the girl thing to do to treat yourself. Here it is the Hamam. A giant stone steam room that is more often than not, older than my entire country (unless you are going to a hotel) and personally I am having a hard time deciding what I like best. Doing a Mani/Pedi gives you some flash to show off after, but a steam room with no time limit where you are scrubbed down and massaged with soap has its perks too.

My girls day in Istanbul consisted of a walk to the Hamam during which I was fed sweets for a pastry shop that you would imagine to be sitting in the streets of Paris, not necessarily Istanbul. As common as they are here it’s not usually what the city is known for but a nice surprise for any exploring tourist. The afternoon contained chatter and gossip in three different languages, and all in all lounging about on heated marble soaking up steam and for me shedding my Manitoba winter skin…. I’m sure the attendant was quite appalled but there is simply nothing that cures dry skin like a hamam.

Now those of you back home who know I have worked for a prominent hotel in my home city that boasted a Hamam will ask “So how did it compare?” Well first off there is no questions. Our local Hamam is better hands down and end of story. From the basic treatment on up better better better. This being said you compare it to the basic mani/pedi you get from “the little shop you know” to one you would get in an actual spa. In general you get what you pay for. If you have your mani/pedi at a hotel spa you may expect snacks tea, access to lounging areas, and drinks and food you can order. If you have it as your monthly or weekly treat you’re looking for something that isn’t going to set you back $130 for a mani/pedi you’re looking at something that costs $30 and that’s about what I paid here. Mind you I went to a local one where I was the only white person, I’ve heard the tourist ones have better décor  and will also set you back a bit more for the same sort of service. For 40 TL  or $25.50 Canadian I got the a service that costs minimum $85 plus tax plus grat at a hotel back home. So I can do with out the tea, snacks, fancy robes and metal water bowls. After flying a quarter of the way around the world, and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed for a week it’s the best money I’ve spent so far and I feel all the better for it.

After steaming for hours the first thing to do once getting out of the hot and airy bath is to locate food.  Some local pitas stuffed with cheese and herbs and lamb and tomato sauce with spices. Was what we used to get our energy back up after having it steamed out of us. The walk back included additional snacking of fried mussels.

Istanbul is a big city it’s some times easy to convince yourself, on a narrow back street, that there really aren’t “that many” people in the area. Oh yes you’ll find yourself admitting it’s busier than the typical Canadian city but nothing like those awful stories you hear of people panicking and getting all claustrophobic about…. Then you find yourself walking in taksim square in rush hour. The only time I have witnessed so many people is on Canada day in Ottawa. You are swept along with the wave of them hopefully in the general direction of where you want to go.

Thankfully however there is never a need to panic in Istanbul. A quick tug in the direction of an ally will get you out of the main press of people another tug down the stairs from my guide puts us in a musty old books shop with no more people than in the average chapters. And a wave to one of the shop keepers in a separate room has us sitting alone with the owner of that section of the shop with out a person in sight and in silence with the exception of a healthy academic debate between Suzan and the shop keeper.If you need to step away from the crowd to catch your breath Istanbul always seems willing to accommodate.

Another thing I find intriguing about the city is its delivery culture. From Milk, to Burger King, you can have just about anything you can imagine, and more than a few things you can’t dropped right at your feet, for little to no additional charge. Sure enough in the back of the little book store tea promptly and magically appears on a little serving tray hauled precariously by one of the street vendors. Where the cups are set up with two lumps of sugar the tea is handed to you (in an actual glass with a real spoon which he comes back to collect from the store at some later point. Eco friendly and pleasing to the eye) and then the tray and delivery boy whisk themselves away and you are left to a tea party at any time in any location your heart should ever dream to think of having tea. I am waiting to see one of these “tea men” spidermanning it down the side of a building to serve the window washer. While I have not witnessed it yet it wouldn’t faze me in the least if I did.

After tea and book shopping we arrive back at our apartment in the dark of night to close the book on a thoroughly well done day in Istanbul.

A Turkish Day

I woke up late the day after my flight to find I already had plans for the evening with Suzan’s friends the included beer and fried mussels. There was no argument that I was up for that. It was well into afternoon but both Suzan and I having had a late night were up for a good Turkish breakfast.

Suzan had called a near by vintage clothing store to start a fire for us and have tea ready. Friends of hers from her studies own it I believe. Suzan’s charm overcame the grumblings from the boys, that it was to late in the day for morning tea by the fire, and so our trip around the neighbourhood started sitting in front of a brick fireplace in the back of a musty shop with vintage charm that apparently runs a hostel on the top floors of the building. Suzan’s friends were perfect gentle men and welcomed a handshake rather than trying to kiss me on the cheek, which is the traditional sort of greeting here. I have been told I say hello very “graciously but I need to learn to kiss people on the cheek so they will remember me because I blend in to much” Honestly no one has bothered me so I kind of like blending it. They spoke English where possible and after a good chat we were on our way to the internet office to double check that I could use the internet as much as I wanted with out additional charges.

Then I was marched through a shop for bread and then a vegetable stand where Suzan determined the fruit to be not up to standard, then to our little grocery store where I was given samples of cheese by the shop workers who were determined to find one I liked and gave us an exceptionally good price of 2TL which is about $1.50 the amount they gave us would have been about $8 back home.

Next a tour of close by coffee shops where I could work from if I lost my connection. All of them had furniture I could only dream of owning. From the modern to the graceful Victorian style that was beautifully reupholstered. These small places pay attention to details and qualities that you would only expect of an establishment running out of a five star hotel back home. It was jaw dropping that places with reasonable prices could be well staffed and glamorous and seem to be successfully run businesses.

Back to our apartment, we had completed all this in about the same distance as it would take to walk from the Fort Garry hotel in Winnipeg to the Starbucks on Broadway. The amount of businesses crammed into a small area is absolutely mind boggling to the average Canadian. Take Osborne during Canada day double the shops and times the street by five side by side and you might get an accurate idea of the neighbourhood I am living in. Of course it doesn’t stop after a couple of streets it just goes on and on, it’s just with so much on a few streets you don’t really need to go that far to get more options for things to buy eat and drink than Winnipeg has entirely 3 times over.

After an good Turkish breakfast, eggs, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, bagels with coffee since we had enjoyed quite a few glasses of tea at this point, we had the afternoon to sit about I spent some time skyping people back home letting work know I was up and running with an internet connection. When night fell we dressed and headed for the tram. Suzan set me up with a pass and I was introduced to “the party bus” this is where they attach a tram to the back of another tram that a band plays in so you have entertainment while you ride. Before getting to the eatery we stopped for juice. 1TL gets you a cup of “juice” that is made fresh from the fruit right in from of you. They shoved to apples into a juicer and handed me a cup of apple juice fresh and sweet enough to make you pucker.

An evening of downing beers, fresh mussels, calamari, and bread with olive oil. Cost me 45 TL it was 88 for the 4 of us after about 11 beers and food for 4.  I paid for Suzan since she has been feeding me and letting me scrounge off her things which I couldn’t pack or forgot to. Darn good price.

After that a few twists and turns of shop packed streets and vendors later, glitter glass work lanterns sparkled like jewels in windows, various foods roasting in little eateries and on carts filled the air with delightful smells with the exception of the section of fish stalls we walked past which were expectedly “fishy” smelling. We ended up at the entrance of a little bar up a flight of stairs and a ride in the smallest elevator I have ever met. This brought us to a loft style gypsy bar where a band was playing music on the violin, clarinet and something else I can’t name. The singer was brilliant, and I am told the clarinet player was quite famous.

The treat for me though, as much as I did very very much enjoy the music was the rolling panoramic view of the city that rolled on and on and out of sight to where I am sure it continued on still. Loft style houses and clubs all the way down to street level, short and tall apartment buildings and hotels all sparking in the night. Welcome to Istanbul.. Three months will be no where near enough to get to know the secrets of this vast city of enchantment… but I am willing to make a good stab at it.

In closing I must report that I have met my first pick pocket. Her name is Georgie and she is a little black cat who is determined my Ipod shuffle belongs to her and will literally pick it up in her mouth and run off with it. If she hides it… I have a feeling I won’t get it back.

Getting there in good luck and good time, Istanbul

It seems that the internet here finds large video uploads a distasteful foreign concept. So I am unsure how successful keeping up the video posts will be but I will make a few more attempts before I abandon the youtube end of this little project.

Hello Duckies! I have arrived safe in Istanbul and I must thank you for all your well wishes as I credit all the luck you have wished me to very narrowly making my flight in London. The best possible combination of events took place where my flight arrived in Gatwick early and despite getting turned around several times I was able to make my bus on time, then the flight to Istanbul was delayed for a security check. Because I was late I got to fast track security as well so things were all well. I was completely unable to sleep up until I was on the flight to Istanbul. That flight I slept most of the way out of pure exhaustion.

Now it truly wouldn’t be me if I did not have a crazy tale to tell less than five minutes after getting off the plane. Seeing as how I got seated at the very back of the flight I saw no reason to rush when I got off the flight. I did not know what I was doing at customs and I had actually planned to look for an internet connection before I left just to recheck some details on where I was going and touch base with Suzan at the apartment I was renting. There was a literal wall of people in front of me at customs but I wasn’t in a hurry so I was running through my mental list of things to worry about when a Turkish gent with Airport staff identification approached me and offered me a wheelchair.

“oh No no.” I stuttered at him pointing in the direction of the long line up.

“Over there three hours, I take you 10 minutes” He stated indicating the chair again.

To my credit I did say no a couple more times before deciding that there was enough security and people from London who spoke English around that I wasn’t likely to get in too much trouble if this turned out to be a problem. I hopped in the chair stuffing a 20 in local currency into my sleeve to slip him after he got me through (as I assumed this was not a free offer) Surely enough my passport was stamped I didn’t even have to talk to anyone about my business in the country, my bags were pushed through without question or search. My bags were pulled for me and carried to the taxi and friendly handshake to pass off of the 20 completed things. I was standing in front of a cab 10 minutes later completely baffled as to how that had managed to work so damn well.

Okay now at this point I have no idea where I am going. Keeping in mind that the guide book said to be wary of cab drivers, I attempted to locate an older driver who would be willing to help me I had my directions written in Turkish for them and I hoped that would be enough to get me where I was going. Well standing looking like a lost puppy is likely not the best thing to do when trying to get a cab driver, but in this case I was approached by a middle age man, who did not bound up to me and try and stuff me into his car. He waved and seemed to be perfectly willing to accept a “no thank you” if I decided to go with another driver. Complete opposite of the fellow in the airport who practically pushed me into the wheel chair. I felt very at ease and showed him the directions.

He honestly told me he didn’t know exactly how to get there but would get me as close as possible. Well that was honest enough for me rather than having someone insist they know where I am going and then dump me on some random street insisting this was where I belonged, only to discover I was miles away from where I should have been seemed much worse a concept. I was willing to accept an “I’ll do my best and put you somewhere within walking distance” as an honest response.

The cab ride was worth the 50 it cost which include a sizable tip for the driver. We drove with amazing views of the Bosphorus strait and the dozens of ships. Two large eagles perched ghostly on barren trees in the sunset looking out over the water. Istanbul is a modern city that looks like it was built on top of a crumbling old city. Which is a pretty literal and accurate description of how the city actually is. We drove under and through pats of old ancient city walls, past business using crumbled ruins as the back setting to their business the old and the new seemed to coexist merely out of a necessity for space. Where the large and old had crumbled the new and small shops and businesses were built up as close as the crumbling would allow, and with most effective (though be it random) use of space possible. The pillars and domes of Mosques poked mysteriously out of the rolling masses of urban buildings, shrouded in the sunset and smog of early evening.

As the cab darted into the city, honking all the way for no apparent reason, I found myself glad that my cab seemed to have no dents or scratch marks, unlike many that I saw that looked as if playing bumper cars with other vehicles was a regular past time of may Istanbul cabbies. I soon understood why the driver didn’t know exactly where I was going. Many streets have no discernable posted name or number. I am sure there is a system but it’s not usually visible when walking or diving about.

When the taxi dropped me off he indicated the direction I should go in, and told me 200 Meters. After I did find the place I had to give him the credit that his directions were accurate with in CM's I have not idea how he knew where to point me as I spent the better part of the nest 2 hours hauling my bags up and down the 5 streets and past the 200 shops that were in the general direction he has pointed. I asked about 5 shop keepers for directions all of which pointed me in the same general direction but I was having no luck finding where I was going and it was getting dark.

An emergency call to Kelly who got in contact with Suzan online for me had her coming to pick me up at a Café not long there after. With much relief I sat down with my bags munching some honey drenched round pastry. I took my first real look around and actually startled myself. I was in the shadow of Galata tower a huge historic old stone tower Originally named the Tower of Christ, it was the highpoint in the city walls of the Genoese colony called Galata. Most of the walls are long gone, but the great tower remains. At the base of which was the cafe I was milling about at. Imagine walking up and down a street for over an hour and then looking up to see a huge castle like structure that looked like it fell out of Lord of the Rings and you would jump too. Not like you would expect to see that walking around the streets of Winnipeg. 

An old man I had waked past about 2 dozen times came up to me while I was eating and felt the need to lecture me about it not being safe to be out at night, and demanded to know where I was going, then insisted I could not go to an apartment and wanted to direct me to a hotel. I would later find out from Suzan that he was the fellow in charge of the neighbourhood safety. Kind of like the head of a neighbourhood watch, not really law enforcement but someone who keeps an eye on things and regularly brings complaints to the authorities. The down side was as well as he seemed to be able to lecture me in perfect English, he didn’t seem to understand anything I was saying. I insisted that a friend would be meeting me shortly. Sure enough Suzan came and had the whole thing cleared up with only a “hello” to the man he instantly waved to her and left us with out a goodbye, he seemed to have dismissed as being daft and was glad my "keeper" had come to collect me.

Shortly there after I was enjoying tea and cookies, taking a hot shower, and settling into a much needed bed. I am here I am safe the food is very good and I really couldn’t have asked for it to go any better. Please continue to send me the luck you can spare as I seem to have had much use for it, and thank you all back home I miss you dearly.

-Ebony