I want candying

I can't believe it's taken me this long to notice that the sign on the end of the snack aisle at Carrefour, yabancıköy's favorite supermarket, reads:

chocolates
candying
chewy

Hmm, it's getting close to happy hour... I think I may be more in the market for something from the "salty" and "boozing" aisles...

Ain't no party like a Çukurcuma party

About an hour and a half ago, I heard an amplified voice broadcasting greetings from my living room. Or at least, that's what it sounded like. Turns out the neighbors are having a party. When I saw a few folks decked out in suits and cocktail-type dresses, I was hoping it would be a wedding or something else interesting to watch, but it seems to be just the standing-around-in-the-backyard kind of party. With very, very loud Turkish dance music.



Update: Now at least there's some dancing to go along with the dance music...

İstanbul'da kalmak istiyorum

While filling out my request for an absentee ballot (no way I'd miss any election, much less this one), I had to decide whether to classify myself as a U.S. citizen residing outside the U.S. "temporarily" or "indefinitely." Though it's just a damn form, it felt a little momentous choosing the later. With almost 7 months in Istanbul under my belt, even a year abroad is starting to seem like a very, very short time. I've met the major first goal I set for myself, completing a six-month series of language classes, and although my Turkish still needs a lot of improvement, I also need to move into phase two--seeing if I can find enough work to sustain myself here. Wouldn't want to have lied to the government, now would I?

Belly up

Sports bar, originally uploaded by mission75.

Lefty O'Doul's. The Bell in Hand. Pshaw. Youngsters. This is what a historic sports bar looks like. Part of the ruins of an inn on the outskirts of Ostia Antica, Rome's ancient port city, this room is decorated with mosaics of athletes on the floor. Since no self-respecting haven for weary travelers could be without a pub, and since buildings of the time were often decorated according to their function--the mosaics at the fishmongers' shop have a piscatorial theme, for example--I can only conclude that this was the spot to toss a few back and talk about last night's game. Or, er, gladiatorial match.

(Though it doesn't have the cachet of the Colosseum or the Vatican, I think Ostia Antica is an absolute can't-miss for any visitor to Rome. An easy metro ride out of the center, it's an extensive and well-preserved ancient city--some call it a "mini-Pompeii"--that you can explore in near solitude, really getting a sense of what life of the time might have been like.)

So, how 'bout them Centurions?

Turkey 101

Before I left for Istanbul, but after I had made my plans known, one of my dear friends told me how she had pulled her car over to the side of the road one day to listen to an NPR report about Turkey. And other friends have passed along articles they've read, asking what I think. I love the idea that I'm bringing this strange country I love a little closer to the people I love. But the news developments here are admittedly hard to follow. (I'm racing to catch up myself.) If you've been hearing little snippets about headscarf bans, judicial coups, lawsuits against the government, falan, falan (etc., etc.), here's a handy little primer from the latest Economist*:

Flags, veils and sharia
Behind the court case against Turkey’s ruling party lies an existential question: how Islamist has the country become?

* Yes, I read the Economist now. I also cook, take my cell phone everywhere, and can carry on multiple IM conversations while texting. They say travel changes you, but somehow that's not quite what I had in mind...

Getting the picture

It's taken living in Turkey to break me of my eco-unfriendly habit of getting receipts from the ATM. Since the lira figures on the receipts don't match up with the dollar amounts coming out of my U.S. account, there doesn't seem much point. But even if I hadn't already made the switch, the supremely awesome guilt trip laid down by local bank Yapi Kredi would have done the trick: When the ATM asks whether you want a receipt or not, the "yes" and "no" options are accompanied by cartoon images of, respectively, a lush little forest and a pile of tree stumps. Subtle!

In other news, making photocopies is apparently haram (forbidden) on Sundays.

Screams in the night

I do not know the first thing about how futbol is played, but I must admit that the screams (and now gunshots) from my neighbors when Turkey is playing--and winning!--are intoxicating. Anyone want to volunteer to teach me a thing or two?

California pride

There's a lovely, if ridiculously expensive, little wine store up the street in Istanbul's yabancı köy (or "foreigner villager," as my friends have aptly dubbed Cihangir) that actually stocks such exotic delights as Brooklyn Lager and Ravenswood wine. But at $25 a six-pack or $65 a bottle, respectively, I generally walk straight past these tastes of home to grab whatever bottle of Italian table wine is on sale this week.

Today, though, I lingered a bit and noticed that while most sections of the store are labeled with the flag of the wines' country of origin, the American section bears (no pun intended) the standard of the "California Republic."

I employed my usual combination of crappy Turkish and excessive hand gestures to tell the man working the counter that I was from California and that I liked the flag. He replied that Americans in general are "antipatik" but Californians are "sempatik." Why, thanks, Istanbul. I love you too.

Twin cities

I didn't do much to help my own case when I posited to friends that Istanbul was basically San Francisco East (far, far east), and then posted pictures of my new city covered in snow. But I stand by my assessment--now more than ever.

It was the lovely light in both places, and the graceful topographical dance of hills and water that first led me to make this comparison. Since spending more time in Istanbul, I've seen how both cities enjoy a good party and a good protest in equal measure (though any Istanbul'lu would surely be appalled at how early the streets of SF roll up at night). But these days they share some less alluring qualities as well, from skyrocketing real-estate prices and a revolving door of unaffordable restaurants to pants-less vagrants moaning in the streets.

All Istanbul needs now is Gavin. He would fit right in amongst the Turkish men--they could bond over their shared love for hair gel and womanizing tendencies--and maybe he could do something about one of the major dissimilarities: Turkey's atrocious record on gay rights.

Mixed messages

To say Turkey is full of contradictions is a cliché, but if there wasn't truth to that, people wouldn't keep saying it. And the combination of a population that's reportedly 99.8 percent Muslim with an ostensibly secular state (occasionally kept that way by force) does produce some doozies.

Last week saw liberal Turks and the European press dismayed at an article published by the government's directorate of religious affairs that recommended what it saw as proper sexual conduct for women. (Personally, I'm at least halfway there, as I've got the eschewing-perfume part down and I must say I look pretty darn cute in a headscarf.)

But while one branch of the government was advising women that they "should not show their ornaments and figure and that they should cover in a fine manner," another was promoting tourism to Turkey with this ad. Keeps life interesting, doesn't it?