In which my mother and I take a day trip to Asia and sail up the Bosphorus. We didn't do all of these activities on the same day, mind you -- this is two days condensed into one post. First up, Asian side! For some reason, a lot of people who have heard about this trip ask if the Asian side feels more...Asian. Answer: no. It's the same city, and you don't suddenly feel you've been transported to Tashkent or the edge of the steppes. It *does* feel less touristy, because tourists don't venture as often to the Asian side. There are fewer sights, fewer people toting cameras around, and fewer hawkers of carpets/postcards/tat. This last part, I liked. A lot.
We hopped on a regular commuter ferry on the European side, and 30 minutes later, we dismounted at Kadıköy -- easy, peasy. We were, by the way, thorougly impressed with Istanbul's public transport network, which encompassed at least five different modes of travel that we could see (tram, bus, subway, funicular, ferry) and appeared to us to be cheap, reliable, and safe. Four thumbs up from us. Back in Kadıköy, we walked around the market area, looking at shops selling things meant for locals' hands, not tourists like us. Below, some pictures of the Kadıköy market.
As you can tell from the pictures, it was quite a rainy day -- our dampest day of the trip. We ducked into a charming, old-fashioned sweet shop to dry off, have a cup of tea, and maybe a toothsome bun of some kind. This retro place totally captivated us:
We had our guidebook with us, which walked us through all the different sights along the way, including the Bosphorus Bridge (the first one), which was the first intercontinental bridge ever built, Dolmabahçe Palace, an old residence of the Ottoman emperors, and the Rumeli Fort, perched at the narrowest point of the strait and a key element in past conquests of Constantinople. Below, some of these assorted pictures from our voyage up the strait: my mother at the start of our trip; don't swim in the Bosphorus, my friends, or you will be sorry and the jellyfish will laugh at you; the Rumeli Fort; juxtaposition of the old and the new in Istanbul; me with the Bosphorus Bridge in the background; the palace.
Afterwards, we roamed the town for a bit, and then headed back to Istanbul. Before the boat took off, I snapped a few candids of the local fishermen as they went about their day.
On the way back to the city, I got a nice clear shot up towards the Black Sea (at right). The right-side bank is the Asian side, in case you were wondering.
By the time we pulled back into Istanbul, the sun was setting, creating the most incredible sunset colors. This is a country with seriously good sunsets, and I was snapping away like a crazy person. As a result, I have more lovely pictures of the setting sun than anyone should. I'll close with just a few choice pictures to give you a staste of what we got to see -- a perfect end to a lovely day on the water.
And then my FAVORITE picture of the entire trip -- the one that I can't believe turned out so well -- this twilight shot (that same evening) right by the Blue Mosque. This picture, by the way, has had zero retouching of the color -- just a little cropping of edges. That's actually what the sky looked like, honest to god.
And so ends this post. Next time, the Istanbul wrap-up: the food post. And after that, one last post about our two days in amazing Cappadocia.
I told you I'd post the second installation lickedy split. After the shocking delays getting the first part of the trip blogged, I figured I should get on this second post right away. Our second day in Istanbul featured the amazing Blue Mosque, the perfectly nice Topkapi Palace, and the not-so-interesting Grand Bazaar. First up, the mosque. Apologies in advance: the light inside is dim, so without a tripod, clear pictures are almost impossible. I jacked up the ISO level as high as it would go, and decreased the shutter speed as much as I dared, but as a result, the shots are a bit grainy and not the crispest, but hey, I'm an amateur and it's the best I could do.
The Blue Mosque, unlike the Hagia Sophia, is still a working religious site. You can only visit when they are not having prayers, and you are asked to dress modestly. Shockingly, we saw a number of women who disregarded the request to cover their heads and some who also wore miniskirts (also in violation of posted signs and every piece of advice in every guidebook ever printed). Irksome to an extreme degree. Anyway, below, some pictures of the exterior and interior.
I could have stayed in there for hours just looking at the beautiful inlays and decorative detail. Less impressive was the Topkapi Palace -- the grounds are expansive, and there are some nice vantage points from where you can see the Asian side of the city, but many of the buildings are closed (all you can do is peek through the windows), and all the treasures of the palace (some of which are quite interesting), have been removed to a museum within the grounds, and the museum does not allow any photograhy. Phooey. Still, here are some pictures from our slightly damp walk around the grounds:
In front of the kitchen wing of the palace, there were all these stone tablets with beautiful carvings in Arabic. A fun subject since I was in the mood to play with my camera's depth of field settings.
We also ventured to the Grand Bazaar, the largest covered market in the world and a confusing warren of shops, all organized geographically within the bazaar by merchandise. There's a jewelry district, a leather goods district, and I'm sure a hammock district had we looked further. I'll be honest, I didn't love the Grand Bazaar. It's big and impressive, but I've seen this sort of thing before (in India, among other places, though this was far more orderly, extensive, clean, and sedate than, say, Calcutta's New Market). Plus, I hate haggling. Like, I detest it. And I'm terrible at it. So shopping in this kind of setting is not something that scores highly on my fun-o-meter. Still, we walked through it and it is certainly something to see. Just not someplace I want to linger. Below, some pictures of the Bazaar.
Above, I can't remember what this building is -- I think some kind of school or government office/compound? It was right by the Grand Bazaar and the light was doing nice things to the facade, so I stopped for a picture. Below, a candid of a man lounging against the wall right outside of the Grand Bazaar. Hooray for longish zoom lenses.
Finally, another little audio treat: one of the textures of Istanbul is the regular call to prayer that you can hear several times a day, all over the city. I took a little video during the evening call to prayer right by the Blue Mosque, so you can hear what it sounded like. In this particular clip, there are actually two different mosques within earshot, both issuing the adhan but at slightly different times. It results in a bit of cacophany, but I think it also captures what you might hear on the street, with adhans coming at you from different sides at the same time. Bonus: the Blue Mosque looks really quite stunning at dusk.
I'll end with a picture of my mother and me with the Blue Mosque in the background again, this time, in arty B&W.
Finally! Turkey trip report! Let's get to it, shall we?
I've been wanting to go to Turkey for ages, and since flights from Europe are fairly cheap, I thought it would make sense to fit in a little trip before I left Northern Ireland. When explaining this plan to my mother, she thought it was nifty keen and invited herself along. We planned a week-long itinerary: 5 days in Istanbul and then 2 days in Cappadocia. A week is hardly enough time to do even Istanbul justice, so we really focused on the highlights as much as possible while still trying to build in plenty of time to slow down, relax, linger over tea, and just take in the atmosphere. Istanbul is one of the most evocative, memorable cities you could hope to visit, and rushing around would do it an injustice.
The next few days were spent taking in the major sites in Istanbul -- the Hagia Sofia, the Blue Mosque, the Basilica cistern, Topkapi Palace, the Spice Market and the Grand Bazaar. Conveniently enough, all of these major sites are located handily on on near the tramway -- a streetcar that ran from the bottom of the hill near our flat right through the heart of Sultanahment where most of the tourist attractions are located. We would simply saunter down Istiklal Caddesi from our apartment, take the funicular (left) from the top of the hill to the bottom, and then hop on the tramway. We opted for the funicular, by the way, because my mother had a deeply gimpy knee during our trip, and we didn't want to chance an injury going up and down the steep, cobbled roads when there was a convenient (and super-cheap) alternative. The funicular was a real winner -- about 85 cents and a 20-second ride to avoid traumatic injury. That can't be beat.
So on our first day, we focused on the Hagia Sofia and the Basilica cistern, both of which are pretty darn amazing. The Hagia Sofia is immense in every sense of the word -- immensely big, immensely old, immensely awe inspiring. It knocks the breath out of you. My pictures cannot do it justice, but here are some anyway:
Left to Right: with my mother in the main chamber; my mother at the wishing column; on the second floor balcony; view out the window to the Blue Mosque in the distance; mosaic by an entrance showing the Virgin Mary being presented with the city of Constantinople by the Emperor Constantin, and the Hagia Sophia by the Emperor Justinian.
The confection is sort of a chewy consistency and I think meant to be an assortment of fruit flavors. It was very sweet, very sticky, and very disgusting. We each took a bite and then tossed it in a dumpster.
Undeterred, we pressed on to our next spot: the Basilica Cistern, location of some chase scenes from the Bond film "From Russia with Love." By the way, this now means I have visited two locations where Bond films have set speedboat chases -- the cistern and this place.
I give the Bond film location scouts total respect because they sure do know how to pick them. An earlier picture in an earlier post showed the cistern in its glory. Here we are, and below that, this odd little performance/gallery space mounted above the water. They have occasional concerts and, as so happened for our visit, weird but cool modern art installations. It certainly contributed to the otherworldly feeling of the place. Seriously, I didn't think it would be this cool, but I'm totally sold on the cistern.
We ended the day with a quick walk through the spice market, a lovely covered space selling all manner of spices, teas and infusions, Turkish delight (of course), powdered henna, and other delights:
Thus ends trip report, part one. Next time, a round-up of the Blue Mosque, the Topkapi Palace, the dervishes, and the Grand Bazaar. I promise, I'll post it in a more timely manner. I leave you with a shot taken with my mother in the park between the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque (the latter is visible behind us).
Holy moly, it's been a long time since I last posted.
I do assure you, lovely readers, that I tried to post some pictures and prose from my November trip to Turkey but computer malfunctions thwarted me not once, not twice, but THREE times, at which point I get fed up and sulked for a while. Okay, fine, a really long while. But I've decided that sulking is so 2009 and I should probably get over it and post again.
So, first things first: happy new year! I hope that 2010 is off to a glorious start for you, wherever you may be (and if you are located in most of the continental US and much of Europe, I hope that you're keeping warm, because: BRRR.) I thought that in this inaugural post of the new year, I should review my to-do list for 2009 and take stock of what I managed to get done and what eluded me. Here goes!
1. Fill up remaining pages in the passport and get extension pages. DONE! And since my passport is an older, pre-chip version, I was excited when the new pages turned out to be the cool, illustrated ones that are now standard issue. They're awesome, and I look forward to filling up as many pages as possible in the five years left before I have to get a new one.
2. Travel to at least two new countries: DONE! I managed to add Mexico, Finland, Estonia, and Turkey to the list. Hooray, overshooting by 100%
3. Learn to drive stick shift: DONE! I am now reasonably confident that if presented with a manual transmission car, I could probably make it move without stalling, say, about 80% of the time and without causing harm to the clutch. However, all bets are off if the car is located in a country that drives on the left or is stopped on hilly terrain. I said I CAN drive. Not that I drive stick shift WELL.
4. Learn to make good pepper rasam: Not done. I only made it once last year and there was room for improvement.
5. Learn to make good misti doi. Not done. I didn't even try out a recipe, though interestingly enough, this recipe for a completely different dessert (which I made for Christmas dinner), seems to hold considerable promise as a starting point for a crackerjack misti doi. Experimenting will be done, results will be reported.
6. Not buy any skirts, but make them myself. Not done. I didn't buy too many skirts, mind you. I bought fewer than I made myself. And all the skirts I bought are from Northern Ireland where I didn't have the option of making skirts because I was sans sewing machine.
7. Increase the down payment for eventual house by $6,000. Not done. Fieldwork is expensive, people. Especially when the dollar is in the toilet. I have high hopes for making up the shortfall and then some this calendar year, especially thanks to my current rent-free situation at Notre Dame.
8. Cross off ten more items on the Omnivore's 100 list: Not done. I only got 5 more (huevos rancheros, fresh wild berries -- courtesy of the blueberries in the Carleton arboretum, whole insects -- courtesy of Mexico, sweetbreads, black truffle). Poor form -- there is no reason I couldn't have made it to ten. Bah.
9. Showshoe. Not done. Though I feel this will get done in January, given all the snow lying around.
10. Learn to put on a sari without help: DONE! Hooray!
So my overall success rate: 40% Poor showing, I think. Perhaps I can do better in 2010. Here's what I'd like to do:
1. Increase the down payment fund by $10,000
2. Visit two new countries
3. Take an art class (likely candidate: a ceramics class, because throwing clay on a potter's wheel is cool).
4. Buy a piece of proper, non-IKEA, grown-up furniture -- not something that is meant to be a short-term item, but a
long-term, investment piece that I will want to keep for years. The current contender: this beauty
5. Start volunteering again. I spent a lot of my free time in college doing volunteer work, but it's disappeared from my life since then. Time to fix that.
6. Start doing yoga.
7. Finish a NYT Tuesday crossword in its entirety, without help. I'm kind of ashamed I can't already manage the Tuesday crossword and I'd like to be able to hold my head up in polite society once again.
8. Brush up on my very rusty French, perhaps by doing some practice translation of Le Monde or some such on a reasonably regular basis.
9. Make puff pastry from scratch. I got the two-volume Mastering the Art of French Cooking by the redoubtable Julia Childs for Christmas, and have already marked the relevant pages. She says the process takes about 6-7 hours, and presumably it takes more than one attempt to get it perfect, so it requires a considerable amount of time. And butter.
10. Try curling. Curling is cool, and if you don't think so, I'm afraid we might not be able to be friends after all.
Of course, I'm also carrying over my rasam and dosa resolutions, as well as the snowshoeing item because I think I can get them checked off without much additional effort. I'll also continue plugging away at that Omnivore's 100 list and the overall sewing project, though I'm not going to form any hard targets for either. I'm feeling like these are reasonable -- and fun -- goals. I'm looking forward to 100% completion by the end of the year.
NEXT TIME: Turkey trip report, I swear.
I know some of you are eagerly awaiting trip reports and photographs of my recent travels in Turkey. They are coming soon, I promise! It's just that I've been running at full tilt since I got back from the trip and I've not had the chance to do the necessary editing and uploading of photos, let alone writing of prose. To tide you over, here are some sneak previews of the photographic splendors to come -- all products of a panoramic stitching program (since I do not as yet have a real wide-angle lens for my camera, this will have to do).
First up, the Hagia Sofia (or Aya Sofia). It used to be the largest church in the world for a thousand years. I...have a hard time wrapping my head around it -- it's so large, so old, so beautiful. It's one of those places that makes you gasp and then go quiet when you walk inside.
Next up, a view of the square in front of the Spice Market (that's the building in the center), with my mother prominently featured. The Spice Market is a colorful, crowded, noisy place, and though there is plenty of tourist tat to be found inside, it has things locals would want to buy as well -- spices (duh), fresh produce, and the like.
Skipping to our two days in Cappadocia, a place that every serious photographer should visit at least once, here's one of a valley that we went hiking in. You should definitely click on this picture (and then click it again) to see the larger image in its glory -- what a stunning, stunning place.
Hello dear readers. My mother and I have been in Istanbul for a little over 24 hours, and I have to say, this city is totally amazing. I'll save all detailed posts (and pictures) for later, but I am happy to report that so far, I am loving the atmosphere, giving my camera a good workout, and eating myself silly. In short, I'm totally digging Istanbul. A full trip report is coming after the week is done, but to tide you over, observe this crazy awesome picture of the underground cistern near the Hagia Sofia.
Oh yes. More of this to come...
So I'm in Belfast at the moment, on my sabbatical, doing research, etc. It's been going alright -- slowly, slowly, slowly -- but going. I am filled with new respect for the people who are involved in massive survey projects like the American National Election Studies project and the decennial census because, whew, my little survey is EXHAUSTING. I knew it would be quite a lot of legwork and involve a lot of face-to-face contact because the topic, the research subjects, and the logistics all require it. I won't get into the details here, because this is a frivolous blog, not a place for discussing serious work in a serious way (I've got an actual work site for such things). But let's just say that every single survey response requires considerable up-front investment in building relationships and trust with different groups of people. It might take one respondent about 30 minutes to fill out the survey (or answer my questions verbally), but to get to that respondent in the first place and persuade him/her to participate requires hours and hours of time on my part.
One of the ways in which I've been trying to involve people who might otherwise not be willing to participate is to work through the main community organizations serving the minority ethnic community, including the Chinese Welfare Association, the Indian Community Centre, and the Polish Association of Northern Ireland. These groups have been unfailingly generous with their time and their support, for which I am deeply grateful. They also tackle incredibly difficulty and important challenges facing the minority sector in Northern Ireland, and I am amazed and humbled by all that they do.
Last week, I tagged along with one of the welfare rights workers from the Chinese Welfare Association to a meeting of a cross-cultural friendship club at the Annandale Flats, an area where Chinese, Polish, and "locals" live side by side. (By the way, I put "local" in parentheses because I find its usage very curious. People from a minority ethnic background who happened to be born and raised here still seem to use it to refer to people from the two dominant communities, but not to themselves -- as if to imply that you can never be a local if you happen to be of minority ethnic heritage).
Anyway, Annandale just recently started up a weekly friendship club where residents can meet, get to know more about each other, have some tea, chat, etc. It's only been up and running for a short time, and it's a modest program at present, with 5-10 people turning up somewhat regularly. I sat in on a session and found it to be really interesting. We talked about Halloween and different traditions involving it (Halloween is Celtic in origin, so Ireland sort of claims it as its own), which led to a conversation about carving pumpkins (which apparently is an American bastardization of the actual tradition: carving turnips. Yes, that's right, turnips.) Pumpkins led to a conversation about eating pumpkins, which eventually got around to the subject of pie. Specifically, pumpkin pie. Everyone present expressed interest in this very odd notion of making a sweet pie out of pumpkins. That's how I came to volunteer to come to the next meeting of the Annandale Friendship Club bearing a pumpkin pie to share.
Here's the problem: you cannot buy canned pumpkin in Belfast for love or money. It simply does not exist. There are fresh, whole pumpkins for sale (aforementioned bastardized carving object), but they are not culinary pumpkins and would make a poor main ingredient for pie. Canned (or "tinned" if you're trying to sound like a local) pumpkin used to be stocked in one gourmet food store -- at least, I was told it was. But even though the store in question carries esoterica like wild boar meat and ostrich sausage, and an odd smattering of American supermarket classics (Betty Crocker cake mix, Aunt Jemima syrup, Green Giant canned vegetables, and Reese's peanut butter cups among others), they don't carry canned tinned pumpkin. CURSES!
Eventually, I fell on a backup plan: butternut squash pie. Sweet potato pie would have worked too, but I saw a butternut squash before I happened upon sweet potatoes, so that's how I went. I basically just subbed in the squash puree without making any other adjustments to the recipe, and fortunately, it turned out rather well. Several people asked for seconds, and they seemed pleased to experience this very classic American autumnal dish.
Roasted Butternut Squash Pie
1 medium butternut squash
2 eggs and 2 yolks
3/4 cup whipping cream
1 1/4 cup light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (adjust to taste)
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger (adjust to taste)
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg (adjust to taste)
1/4 teaspoon ground clove (adjust to taste)
pinch of sea salt
pinch of cayenne pepper
prepared pastry crust
1. Cut the squash in half. Scoop out seeds and fibers with a spoon. Place cut side down on a baking sheet and bake at 350F for about 45 minutes, or until soft and cooked through. Cool, and then scoop out the flesh. Run through a food mill or food processor until smooth.
2. Prepare the pie crust (I used refrigerated dough on this occasion, though your favorite short crust recipe will do). Line a pie pan with the dough, crimping edges decoratively. Prick all over with a fork. Add pie weights or beans and bake according to box (or recipe) until lightly golden brown (not fully cooked, but not raw dough).
3. Mix the filling ingredients together until well blended. Note: I added more spice than the quantities specified here, but that's because I like fairly assertive flavors, including a punchy kick from the cayenne. You can do what suits you, including skipping the cayenne altogether, though I dig the addition. Pour into the hot crust (I used a sieve to strain out errant lumps of squash). Bake in a 325F oven for about 25 minutes -- watch carefully so it doesn't burn. The edges of the filling should be firm set, but the center should still wiggle a little when you shake the pan.
Best served warm, with a dollop of cream, and eaten with friends, old and new.
I was in the Marks and Spencer foodhall the other day. Well, I'll come clean: I'm in the Marks and Spencer foodhall many days. It's kind of like crack for the likes of me (so many interesting things to consider! So many tempting things to buy!). And it's located tantalizingly close to the place where I catch the bus to go home from the city center. It's like the universe WANTS me to spend my hard-earned cash buying lovely, delicious things.
Anyway, I was in there the other day and came across an intriguing fizzy drink, the likes of which were completely unknown to me: dandelion and burdock soda (traditional since 1937, claims the can). It's served up in green aluminium can with a slightly retro-looking depiction of what I think is supposed to be some dandelions. I don't think it shows any burdock though (burdock looks sort of like thistles, and I believe it is the root that is used). Now, I've eaten dandelion greens in salad, but never considered dandelion as a drinkable substance. And I can't say I've spent even 30 seconds thinking about burdock. All in all, a rather unexpected soft drink option.
So, of course, I had to buy it.
The report: i
t tastes like cream soda, with a healthy dose of anise thrown into the mix. Slightly creamy tasting, with hints of vanilla once you get past the licorice/anise notes. Full disclosure: I don't like anise. And so this is not my all-timefavorite thing to drink. But even with my dislike of licorice-tasting things, I have to admit, it's interesting in a good way. And if you like anise, you'd probably like it a lot. And if you think you might like it and have a garden full of dandelions making you feel thirsty (and you know where to get some burdock root). here's a little recipe so you can make some yourself -- quite handy, especially if your bus stop is nowhere near the Mark's and Spencer foodhall.
Ugh, late autumn in the UK is not my favorite. It's damp(er), gray(er), and windy(er). There may be snatches of sun. Perhaps even quite a lot of sun on some days. But mostly, it is a palette of Pantone 421. It makes everything *feel* so much colder, even though it's a good 20° warmer here than back home.
I do quite a bit of writing by hand in my daily life. I am a fairly compulsive list maker, and though I can (and do) make dozens of lists online (thanks to this site here), most of them are written on actual paper. In addition to that, I often write lecture notes by hand (I have this theory that my lectures are usually better, more lively, and sound more spontaneous when I base them off handwritten notes, though I have never performed a controlled experiment to establish whether this is actually the case) and despite my geeky attempts to use technology to make grading less of a chore, I usually mark papers by hand as well. To say nothing of the dozens of other scribbles and notes--all of which multiply when doing research or conducting interviews.
Since I started working at Carleton, I even re-developed a small callus on the middle finger of my right hand, exactly where I rest a pen when writing. It's not pronounced, but I haven't had a callus there since high school, which is the last time I wrote so much by hand. It's more or less gone right now, since I have no grading to do while on sabbatical (hooray!), but I suspect it will reappear next fall.
All of this led me to think seriously about investing in some nice pens because, let's face it, a nice writing instrument makes writing so much more pleasant. And writing with a nice pen makes my handwriting significantly better to boot. It slopes more evenly, looks more elegant, and is just more pleasing to the eye. I'd like to think I have pretty good handwriting (that C I got in elementary school handwriting aside). Sure, I am capable of total chicken scratch that even I can't decipher, but that only happens when I'm in a rush. Otherwise, I think my penmanship is not bad. I mean, it's not calligraphy, and it's not even as beautiful as my father's handwriting, which is truly pleasing to the eye, but it's not bad. My dad, by the way, totally bucks the stereotype of doctors having appalling penmanship.
I favor pens with pretty free-flowing ink and I prefer nibs/points that are not fine (the wider, the better). I hate (HATE!) rollerball pens because I find them too scratchy. I won't write with a Bic pen (or any disposable) if given a choice. And if you are a staunch supporter of the pencil, well, really, I have nothing more to say to you, though I will make special dispensations for mathematicians and primary school teachers. No, what I want to write with, if given a choice, is a fountain pen. Preferably one with a medium or wide nib and some kind of unexpectedly cool color.
The other day, I was wandering past this lovely pen store in the Belfast city centre, and I decided to stop in and try out a few pens. I wasn't actually planning on buying anything -- just the pen equivalent of taking a bundle of clothes to the dressing room and playing. Of course, just trying out pens is a dangerous business if, like me, you easily fall in love with a pen and decide it must be yours. Fortunately for me, I didn't go near the Mont Blancs (I have no business owning such a pen. Not until I win the lottery), so the damage to my wallet was contained. Instead, I happened onto Lamy's line of pens. Lamy is a German penmaker, and I'd never heard of them before even though they've apparently been around for a long, long time. They aren't hugely expensive (their lowest price point option is somewhere in the $20 range), their replacement nibs and inks are well-priced, and best of all, they write beautifully -- smooth, free-flowing ink, nice heft and balance. The pen I bought is the one above (though mine is blue rather than this brushed steel. I like the brushed steel better, but it wasn't in stock in the store, and the blue is nice too). I've been writing with it nonstop and it adds just that little bit extra joy to the endless lists I make for myself every day; Add utterly delightful inks in the most gorgeous colors and I'm just in heaven. Lamy, I'm sold on you, utterly so,
