Goat Cheese: A Love Affair

Chris Briddick, one of our SD Turkey consultants, once wrote: “The goat cheese in Turkey will make you want to hug the next goat you see out of gratitude, your vision blurred by tears of joy.” After my first breakfast in Turkey, I wasn't looking for a hug-- I was planning a whole-scale kid-napping (ha!), complete with duct tape and a clever disguise to get us through customs. It didn't entirely work out, but oh, the memories:

On the trip, I believe I was known as the Weird Girl Who Took Pictures of All Meals (and, later, the Girl Who Could Bring a Dessert Buffet to its Knees), but with good reason, don't you think? These plates were works of art that rivaled anything we saw in the endless string of museums:

“The city was a jumble of aromas [...] Almost every smell made her recall some sort of food, so much so that she had started to perceive Istanbul as something edible" --from The Bastard of Istanbul, Elif Shafak

Now back in the states, I find myself strolling wistfully through Hy-Vee, looking in vain for whole roasted hazelnuts among the ho-hum cashews and real Turkish olive oil among all its mediocre Mediterranean imitations.

*sigh*

But as Tim says: all the more reason to come back to Turkey!

To Squat or not to Squat

That is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the line to bear the tedium and odor of awaiting a standard toilet, or, against the sea of a bus-worn bladder, to just suck it up and squat.

That's what I did, once upon a time in Turkey-- and paid 50 cents for the privilege! It's an experience not to be missed. All Turkish johns are not created equal, of course. We eventually came to the conclusion that public bathrooms in Turkey really are a crapshoot (pun totally intended! ten points!), as evidenced by our lunch stop in Karacasu.

Behold, the most glorious public bathroom known to humankind:

Complete with mahogany doors, twittering birds, and soothing music--100% free. It's the first time I've been to a restaurant where people have said "The fish is great, but you've really gotta try that bathroom."

A Motley Crew

No, not the 80s hair band-- they require gratuitous heavy metal ümlüats (which, coincidentally, are alsö üsed müchly in the Türkish langüage). I'm speaking of our lovely group of teacher travelers:

Apart from being accomplished, freakishly well traveled, and helpful beyond all comprehension, our group has quite the range of hidden talents. Take Team SD:

Gary-- watercolor painting

Karen-- gardening

Sally-- putting up with me as a roomate (and sewing cute baby Aladdin pants, with which she should fill the market niche in Turkey and make herself a handsome profit)

Other hidden talents uncovered from the Magic Bus include yoga, languages (Bosnian and Arabic, among others), poetry, sketching, belly dancing, guitar, nickname-bestowing, pottery, sucking out fish brains, photography, ping pong, emergency nosebleed stoppage, and darting through Turkish rush hour traffic without being killed. We are awesome.

Dancing with the Turks

Above health care, the economy, and the war, one issue ranks highest on the national scale of importance: America's need for more spontaneous song and dance. (In case you were wondering, I am both Pro-Song and Pro-Dance.) For this, we must Look to the Turks:

The band was a planned part of our supper experience, but the move-busting, which was accompanied by much singing from the restaurant patrons, was utterly impromptu. Brilliant! This is the only video I attempted to take in Turkey (evidenced by its oh-so-artful cinematography), which proves how firmly I support this issue.

The above example wasn't some isolated incident, either; these people inhale song and exhale dance, for reals. At a lunch stop in Karacasu, Gary "Saz Dylan" Pederson jams with a Turk on his saz:

Hey! Mr. Parakeet Man, play a song for me

And oh, that lovely night in Kusadasi (or "dancing with Gypsies," as Tom insists on calling it). Here's the story: as a few of us ventured into the bustling nighttime streets, we met a large family of Turks (Gypsies?) singing and dancing to a Turkish folk song on the sidewalk, accompanied by drum and flute—during which they promptly pulled us into the chaotic circle in a flurry of smiles, laughter, and linking arms as we tried (awkwardly) to mimic their flowing hands and bouncing feet. It only lasted for a minute or two, but it still tops my list of Best Moments in Turkey... mostly because of the sweet-faced little boy in the group throwing up gansta moves, thinking I was cool enough to reciprocate (I wasn't).

Viva la dance dance revolución!

The Comedy/Tragedy Seagulls of Istanbul That Will Eat You

When you wake up in Istanbul, you might hear the 5:00 call to prayer, maybe a honking car horn, and what sounds like a sadistic child, laughing maniacally and torturing another child who wails in pain. Those would be the seagulls. They enact their tragicomic dramas daily, hourly, and for free—except for the times you pay with your FLESH. Yes, according to the waiter on our rooftop hotel restaurant, these seagulls are Africanized (!! Like killer bees?) and suffer loss of habitat/food from human encroachment. So they cannibalize each other, attack other waterfowl (like ducks), and sometimes the sweet, fleshy eyes of tourists. Yum! No one on our tour was accosted; this is where the characteristic American loudness that got us thrown out of the rooftop restaurant one night probably worked in our favor.

Ahhhh! The Birds!

Disclaimer: this all could be completely inaccurate, because it was late, the waiter’s English was choppy, there was Raki involved, and I was cowering in fear from the two seagulls directly above who seemed to be choosing the weakest of our pack to peck. Sue me, seagulls (but don’t eat me, please).

Speaking of unchecked animal prowess, Turkey is the Land of Cats. I wonder why? I bet Wikipedia knows. Anyway, they’re everywhere, prancing around like little sultans of the street:

Morning Patrol at Hagia Sophia

I’m really more of a dog person, but I enjoyed the cat presence—like the ubiquitous evil eye, they’re just part of the décor.

Intro

Againable*, adj. = the quality of being repeatable; fully enjoyable; awesomely awesome.

We need made-up words to describe Turkey, because the normal superlatives just won't do: Incredible? (meh) Amazing? (yawn) Wonderful? (yes, so is my turkey sandwich sometimes). Turkey is more than those, it's againable; I'd visit again and again, and in fact, I do-- in my pictures, my daydreams, the times I attempt to cook with Turkish saffron, and when I relive it all through writing this blog. So there you go: it doesn't matter if you read this, or if anyone does, because I'm just using you as a medium to float back to Turkey. Ha! And as long as we're being technical and honest here, it's not even a 'true' blog that's updated as events occur (I've already returned from the trip), and it probably won't even be in order. If you want a better idea of that, visit http://www.knanishu.com/itineraries/turkey.pdf (itinerary) or http://www.knanishu.com (another teacher's blog, with plenty of great pics). If you want random, incoherent collections of words thrown on a page... well by God, you've hit the jackpot!



*coinage credit goes to Chad Paulson, whose wordsmith achievements also include "dramastically"