Istanbul Diary, Day 5

This was definitely going to be the day we took a tour of the Hagia Sophia Mosque. After all, it was right next to our hotel. Below is a photo of the building on a cloudy day, stolen from famouswonders.com

Here's a look up at the southeastern wall, taken by me.

We were definitely going to go in. There was a high-energy crowd of tourists just waiting for us to join them.

Then we saw the line that was also waiting for us. Smiling people with expensive-looking cameras and poor time management skills were queued up as far as we could see. The only longer line in town was the one to petition the Sultan. So we moved on, and decided to reschedule this architectural and historical gem for another day.

Luckily there was another cultural treasure (literally) across the street. The dimly-lit vaults of the Basilica Cistern were open for business, and featured almost no line at all: success! 

This place used to be used for fresh water storage for the city. They've since drained it and built a platform inside which visitors can walk through to look around, mainly the hundreds of marble pillars that are holding up the roof. They've kept a foot or two of water in the bottom, though, to remind you of its original use and to increase the eerie beauty by reflecting the lights. There are also thousands of big, fat catfish swimming around. I assume they're there to cut down on algae-scrubbing bills. I have also hypothesized that they eat at least half of the many coins that visitors toss over the side of the viewing platform, wishing well style.

The most popular part of the Basilica Cistern are two monumental carved heads representing Medusa. Several signs point to the Medusa heads, and everyone takes several pictures of them each (including me). They look like they were originally meant to serve as column capitals, but they are both on the ground level, and one is sitting sideways while the other is upside down. Why? It is mystery, silly tourist! 

Unfortunately the light is very dim in the Cistern, and cell phone photos tend to come out either very dark or overexposed. Oh well.

Suffice it to say that they are large and charismatic objects, and not at all some sort of House of Versace advertising stunt.

And thus, having avoided the long line at Hagia Sophia in favor of the ethereal gloom of the Cistern, we made the fateful decisions to dive into the opposite end of the spectrum by subjecting ourselves to the sensory assault that is The Mother of All Tourist Traps, Istanbul's Grand Bazaar.

This lantern shop is a good example of the quiet, restrained atmosphere that reigns amid the endless offerings of the Grand Bazaar. And remember, this isn't even the inside of the shop - this is just what you see walking by.

Fortunately, it is possible to find an oasis of relative quiet, even amid the frantic bustle of commerce. This little courtyard is part of the Grand Bazaar complex, but maintains a leafy charm all its own. Min-Min the Travel Panda approves.

Much more our speed, however, is the nearby Book Bazaar. Here, no one is hustling you in broken English to come in and buy a commemorative coffee table book about famous Ottoman palaces (although they have many such volumes for sale).

It is also a place in which the free market in ideas is a vibrant reality. I found one stall-keeper who seems to be the organizer of the local Objectivist/atheist club... 

You can also get the whole set...

Or takes side in the Tesla vs. Edison war...

Or read the latest Turkish guide on how to dress well and tie a necktie elegantly (I assume)...

Istanbul is a city of historic and cultural riches, roughly half of which seem to be under construction or renovation. This site, in Sultanahmet near the Blue Mosque, also marks the exact location on which a kindly older gentleman engaged us in conversation about ongoing archaeological efforts, only to quickly turn the conversation to...rug purchases. 

I told Bryan as we were walking away that I was going to preempt such a conversation by asking the next person who walked up to us on the street if they wanted to buy a rug, and then following them down the block with offers of guided tours of the Bosphorus when they refused. For you, my friend, special price! Wait, Effendi, where are you going?

Finally, it was time for dinner, and what better place to round out the day then one of Istanbul's only Chinese restaurants? Chang Cheng is a tribute to the enduring friendship between the Turkish and Chinese people, a bond apparently based almost entirely on the color red. 

The flags of both nations, of course, are dominated by the scarlet hue, and Chang Cheng takes this interior decor cue and runs with it. No cartoon abattoir was splashed with more layers of red, red, red!

Are strings of chili peppers a traditionally Chinese decoration? It doesn't matter, as long as they're red. As we were leaving, one of the valet parking attendants noticed me taking a photo with my phone and called one "one picture - 10 lira!" As I was feeling generous, however, I decided not to collect the 10 Turkish lira he was offering me, and simply walked back to the hotel.

The food, by the way, was perfectly cromulent Chinese food of the variety that can be widely found in the United States and with which no actual Chinese person has had any contact whatsoever.

Istanbul Diary, Day 4

Having learned what delicious lessons brunch in the hotel had to teach, we returned for more fruit and other breakfasty delights, including the figs at the top of the plate. I had to hurry myself along, however, as we had a date to observe the liturgical tradition of Christmas at a local church here in Istanbul. That and because apparently gluttony is a sin.

When we arrived at the Crimea Memorial Church, also known as Christ Church, we were first greeted by a pair of waddling, quacking ducks. They didn't seem to be part of any living crèche display; I think they were just local residents taking a walk around their yard.

The area around the church is sufficiently built up that it is difficult to get a good vantage point of what the exterior actually looks like. It's further obscured by a Violet Venable-style garden that might profit from a pruning jubilee. Here's an artist's conception.

The interior of the church, decorated for the festive holiday season, featured a set of red paper hangings that suggested a cross between Chinese lanterns and piñatas. The rest of the interior was quite traditional and beautiful. The service itself, while brief, was also a lovely event. Afterwards, the priest thanked everyone for coming and for being sober. Apparently the celebrants that showed up for midnight mass the evening before had been consuming the blood of the Lord long before communion was ready to be offered. 

Having discharged our religious duties for the day, we set about wandering through the Beyoglu/Taksim district. We briefly considered having our photos taken like old timey Turkish gentlemen, but decided that, while fezzes can be fetching, borrowing extravagant mustaches just for picture purposes wasn't quite our speed.

We also passed this basement window which, according to Ottoman legend, would once happily eat any misbehaving children in the neighborhood. It seems to have slowed down these days, but locals insist it is only one tantrum away from succumbing to its historical hunger.

We also passed by this poster, which is advertising an elegant restaurant. The implication is that, after a romantic dinner for two, both spooning and forking are possible outcomes.

Eventually we found our way into an underground arcade which was filled both with inexpensive consumer electronics and an extraordinarily large selection of garden supplies. Bryan and I were both suitably impressed to see that one of the merchants was selling the same brand of bird repeller used by the U.S. Secret Service.

After briefly considering the purchase of a well maintained rototiller, we continued to the Galata Bridge, which spans the channel of water known as the Golden Horn (not the Bosphorus itself, as I was reminded). At the Northern end, there is a ferry dock and fish market, home to dozens of shouting fishmongers and yet more of Istanbul's endless population of stray cats.

Here we look down from the bridge level to the dock. A ferry is arriving, and you can see the southern half of European side of the city is the distance. Below you can see Bryan, looking very chic and sophisticated in his Ray Bans.

The Galata Bridge is lined with dozens of fishermen, casting off the side into the water below. When I asked a local what kind of fish they were going after, he just shrugged and said they were fishing "just for fun." If standing on the side of a bridge with four lanes of traffic at your back and squinting into the sun for hours on end is your kind of fun, consider yourself at home.

Among the many shops we saw, I can especially recommend "Hero Select," a store to quicken the pulse of any sci-fi or fantasy fan from around the world. They've got a breathtakingly geeky selection of figurines and collectibles from your favorite fandoms, including Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Indiana Jones, and the various superhero universes. Many of these items are finely wrought licensed merchandise, so you can rest easy knowing that the media companies who own the copyright to your favorites characters are getting their full kickback from the artists who actually created the pieces.

They even had one item that I myself received from Santa only recently, the Han Solo encased-in-carbonite ice tray.

Naturally, however, the highlight of the season and of the store was this merry old elf/Jedi master. I didn't see any resin-molded Lando Calrissian figures celebrating Kwanzaa, but I suspect they were just sold out.

Istanbul Diary, Christmas Edition

They make a fantastic Christmas dinner here at the hotel, but a special holiday meal is no time for camera phone photos so you won't be seeing that. Instead, here's Bryan and I dressed for dinner in our room.

Don't worry, there's more to see around town. Even though Turkey is a mostly Muslim nation, there is still a great deal of Christmas cheer to be had. Santa is quite popular in advertising and window shop displays - and aren't those the two purest incarnations of the Christmas spirit after all?

When you go shopping with the holidays in mind, you'll see that with Santa, all things are possible. You can learn English, for example...

Score some stylish sunglasses...

Or sing a happy song...

Become a contortionist...

Furnish your folksy winter cabin...

Get three things for the price of two...

Climb into your neighbor's orange tree...

and bring balance to The Force...

Be merry or be merry not - there is no try.

  

Istanbul Diary, Day 2

The day started out with Bryan and I both examining our phones to make sure they were in proper working order. This was a far more important task that, say, making the bed.

After reassuring myself that Foursquare was functioning, we headed downstairs to partake of the hotel's breakfast offerings. 

While Bryan ordered a sensible set breakfast with scrambled eggs and toast, I decided to unleash myself on the entire universe of buffet options, of which the above plate of fruit and pastry was only the opening salvo. The rest were inhaled with such dispatch there wasn't even time for additional photos. I especially liked the tiny diced fruit salad. From now on I will consider any pieces of fruit larger than parcheesi dice to be categorically unacceptable (except, of course, for the pineapple pictured above). Also, there was a large wooden rack of honeycomb. In case you're into that.

Suitably refreshed by a simple meal (in Bryan's case) and several thousand calories of buffet items (in mine), we ascended to the hotel roof for a morning view of the Hagia Sophia, which happens to be right next door.

As you'll doubtless remember from your governess' early tales of Ottoman atrocities committed against Christendom, the building was an Eastern Orthodox cathedral for around 1,000 years until Sultan Mehmet II conquered Constantinople in 1453 and had it converted into a mosque. 

Fortunately, things have quieted down since then. After a brief stint as a Moslem holy place, it was closed in 1931 and eventually reopened as the museum it is today. We still haven't gone inside, but that brings us up to the present. While there have been countless artistic representations of the structure created over the centuries, I personally prefer the one below.

Having decided to actually leave the hotel for greater adventure, we set off in search of transportation options. The first transport-related sight I noticed was this example of Istanbul's notoriously strict traffic and parking regulations.

Here in the old part of the city, streets are narrow and irregular and cars will often be found driving in places that would be considered sidewalks in the infidel nations of the West. Actual wide, boulevards-style sidewalks of a city like Washington, D.C. are considered a decadent waste here, where six inches of cracked pathway next to rushing traffic is more than anyone has a right to expect. Note that you will also be expected to share your sidewalk slivers with several feral cats, of which Istanbul contains a vast number (more on urban zoology later).

We decided to set out for Taksim Square, an area of the city popular with both locals and tourists alike. On the way we utilized both the above ground Tramway and the angled funicular, which takes you up the city's occasionally steep hillside. Inside one of the stations was this advertisement for an English language school. Note that in Turkey (reputedly the birth place of the historical Saint Nicholas) Santa says "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!" and uses a megaphone.

In the middle of Taksim Square (which is actually a traffic circle) there is a monument to the Turkish War of Independence. In our photo, however, Min-Min the Travel Panda takes pride of focus.

In the blocks around Taksim, there are many shops, cafes and other places to stop and idle. Here are a few. First is the Bambi Cafe, which has a strong presence in the city. Jokes about venison on the menu are only to be expected.

Istanbul also boasts many candy and dessert shops which sell favorites like baklava, glazed figs and the popular Narian confection Turkish Delight. Many also feature more whimsical incarnations of the pastry-making arts, such as this cake shaped like a Coccinella magnifica.

Don't let the childlike treats fool you, though. The neighborhood also has a mature edge to it. 

None of the passersby on the street looked like they were in a particularly erotic mood, but then again I guess that's what the contents of the store is for. Whew - it's been a long day of sightseeing already. Let's have a kiki!

Here's a second-chance view of Taksim Square, replete with revolutionary memorial, streetcar, and local pedestrians.

And finally, just in case you were wondering what it looks like when Foxy Brown wins the Turkish lottery, let this poster be your guide.

Istanbul Diary, Day 1

After arriving 3 hours early for my flight from Dulles to Istanbul Atatürk Airport, I boarded among a crowd of what I guessed were mostly locals returning home. They were still a diverse group, however. The urban cougar in tight fitting jeans and an expensive color job sat next to the veiled mother of three with nary a suspicious glance between them.

As we were seated, the luxury of Turkish Airways service was apparent. A little red zippered bag was waiting on my seat, with all of the essentials for a comfortable, relaxing flight. Whether one is in need of an eye shade, some traction socks, earplugs, or a toothbrush, they've got you covered. Ear buds were included for accessing the video panel in the seatback in front of me, which displayed everything worth looking at (not pictured). 

  

Not everything was interactive entertainment and complimentary lip balm, however. After an hour or so in the sky and the commencement of meal service, a small Turkish lady a few rows ahead apparently fell ill to some degree. There was a public address request for medical professionals, and soon several people were gathered in the aisles staring at said woman and looking concerned. First, a cup of orange juice was summoned. That being unequal to the job, a small tank of oxygen was also produced. One of the two physicians who answered the call broke out a stethoscope. Several members of the cabin crew and passenger complement continued standing in the aisles looking concerned. This cumulative effort seems to have been sufficient, and after about 20 minutes, dinner service was resumed. I assume she felt better, but it's possible she died with a quiet dignity and was covered with a blanket for the rest of the flight - her seat was too far ahead of mine to tell for sure.

The dinner itself, however, was quite satisfactory. The glory days of Pan Am serving hand-carved chateaubriand in their on-board Galaxy Lounge may be gone, but there is still room for chicken brochettes with potato gratin accompanied by Tavuk göğüs and "cheese cake." Fellow Oregon natives will notice that the fame of Tillamook cheddar cheese extends even to Anatolian-based airline meals serving high above the Atlantic Ocean.

But the food didn't end there. After snoozing back for a few hours over the European landmass, it was time for airborne breakfast.

Bring on the cheese omelette with fried potatoes and mushrooms, fruit salad and (more) cheese with olive, tomato, and cucumber. The strolling steward tong'd me up a piping hot roll and his colleague poured me a cup of hot coffee. Solid work, cabin crew. Being a fan of bold printing and diacritical marks, I decided to take the pre-packaged wet wipe with me as a souvenir. Miles and smiles!

Once the breakfast things were put away, it was finally time to anticipate our landing in Istanbul. Where would I but my visa stamp? How long would the passport line be? Would the customs enforcement officers find the heroin I had strategically hidden?

Thankfully my stash went unmolested and the visa line was directly to the left of the arrival chute. I breezed through the passport line and eventually made my way to the Four Seasons Istanbul at Sultanahmet.  

This is the place, but not my picture; by that point I was done with photos. But there's more to see on Day 2.

TV Review: Kings

Michael Green's "Kings" started with a compelling premise - a modern, divinely-inspired absolute monarchy - but never seemed to find a solid focus. Was the show an action-adventure tale, a sci-fi style alternate reality drama, a profound religious allegory or a star-crossed love story?

It was interesting, though, for taking the idea of direct communication with God and direct divine intervention in human affairs as legitimate plot devices and not an example of mental illness. Green himself complained about the refusal of NBC to directly market the series' themes to religious audiences, and it's easy to understand why he was disappointed - network shows that take religious faith seriously without reducing it to soft-focus, family-friendly platitudes are mighty scarce.

The series gets a big plus for Ian McShane's nuanced and emotional role as King Silas and Susanna Thompson as the detail-oriented Queen Rose. There's also the tantalizing question of what would have become of Macaulay Culkin as the son of the kingdom's manipulative villain William Cross (Dylan Baker) had the minimal screen time of his role stretched past its initial five episodes. And of course Brian Cox is good in everything he does, including his 3-episode arc as the deposed and imprisoned King Vesper Abaddon.

Recommended to Old Testament fanatics, monarchists, and anyone who ever wished Carter Baizen from "Gossip Girl" was gay.

Respond

Really, Eric Ripert?

I look at a lot of restaurant websites, mostly to preview their menus. And like the food at a fine dining establishment, a restaurant's website can be judged by its attention to the little details. A misplaced diacritic can ruin a pdf menu as surely as a hint too much salt can doom a plate of risotto.

Thus I'm always perplexed to see a restaurant whose owners have clearly made large investments in every other aspect of their operation throw up a menu for public consumption that looks like it was copy-edited by a developmentally disabled chimp.

Whether it's Tableau attempting to entice customers with a pan roasted halibut with "beure blanc" (they couldn't afford the second r?) or Stratta offering up the rather alarmingly named "sausage and leak" pizza, one would think someone on the management side would notice these things...eventually.

Which brings me to Eric Ripert's Westend Bistro in Washington, D.C. When the restaurant first launched in 2007, I was excited and looked forward to eating there. When I looked at the online menu, though, I noticed so many spelling, grammatical and capitalization mistakes that it deflated all of my enthusiasm. I've still never been there.

Which brings me to my thing de résistance, a screen shot of Westend Bistro's bar menu, in which Ripert offers up, for the low, low price of $200 a pour, "Remy Martin Lois XIII" cognac.

(Click image to enlarge)

I know there's no "u" in team, but I'm pretty sure there's supposed to be one in "Louis." Plus, Eric Ripert is French, right? I know he grew up in Andorra, but he's still basically French, no? Yet he has a menu listing for a drink Peter Griffin might order by accident. I know celebrity chefs are busy and everything, but how did his website launch without someone who knows something about the restaurant and beverage industry looking at it? I'm certainly no expert and it jumped out at me immediately. And again, it's been that way for almost three years now.

Yeah, First World problems, I know. But isn't being a master chef all about insisting on perfection? Being intolerant of even the smallest errors of execution and presentation? Why, M. Ripert, would you make excellent food but present it via a terrible, error-filled menu? In the name of FSM, why?

Advice to my Cousin Brian About...


Dear Brian,

4sq is many things to many people. The original design was tailored to people who were going out to restaurants and bars and wanted to keep track of their friends without an annoying series of text messages. When you show up at a location, you bring up the application and check in, letting anyone on your friend list know where you're at. If you want to know where your peeps are at, just look up 'friends', and you can see that Todd and Jenny are at Lucia's Wine Bar, Dave just checked in at Bar Abilene, and Joey and Gene are at The Saloon. Should you desire to hook up with any of them, you're free to make your way any of those locations.

On top of that basic functionality are the points, badges and Mayorships. These are all behavioral rewards that attempt to make using the application more fun and interactive. You get points for checking in anywhere, but especially new places. You get badges for a certain number (or certain pattern) of check-ins, and you become the “Mayor” of a location if you're the most frequent visitor. Some people really get into pursuing and accumulating these rewards and some people think doing so is a pathetic waste of time. I'm somewhere in the middle. The one emerging advantage to being the Mayor of a bar or restaurant (other than smartphone nerd / local scenester bragging rights) is that some places will give you free or discounted swag if you're the Mayor. There's actually a bar in DC that says its Foursquare Mayor always drinks for free. Speaking of which, I need to go check in there right now.

The more recent aspect of 4sq is the perennial, all-day-long, self-stalker version. Like I said, it started out as a going-out guide for friends. The system of rewards was clearly meant to apply to being socially active in the evenings. But since it's a mostly open platform, you can add whatever locations you want (a drugstore, your office, 7-11, a public park). That means you can also check in to any location any time. This has led the self-stalkers of the world to check in EVERYWHERE they go, all throughout the day (abridged example):

8:39am – Tyler checked in to 2C Metro Bus Eastbound
8:57am – Tyler checked in to Starbucks – Downtown East
9:09am – Tyler checked in to InterQualTech Resources HQ
10:15am – Tyler checked in to IQT 7th floor Men's Room
12:07pm – Tyler checked in to Burger King
3:15pm – Tyler checked in to IQT Main Conference Room
5:35pm – Tyler checked in to Bailey's Pub & Grill
7:51pm – Tyler checked in to 2C Metro Bus Westbound
8:32pm – Tyler checked in to Tyler's Loveshack Condo

In order to pull this off, you need to have either very indulgent friends or be a celebrity. Depending on how large a following you're interested in cultivating, local broadcast media celebrities may indeed qualify. This changes significantly, however, if you have your 4sq check-ins set to automatically post to your Twitter (or Facebook) account. The Twittersphere is currently experiencing a severe 4sq backlash. Auto-tweeting every check-in – especially if you're going the self-stalker route – has become extremely unpopular of late. I advise against it. These days I only Twitter check-ins at bona fide bars where I am actually meeting friends and drinking. Anything else – Safeway, CVS, McDonald's, Office Depot, etc., should be kept to oneself. Unless you want everyone but your roommate to unfollow you.

Hopefully that makes some sense. There are a lot of other aspects to 4sq that bear some comment, but they're mostly things best understood by actually using it. The application definitely isn't for everyone – shut-ins, paranoiacs and perennial homebodies are advised to seek other amusements. For most others, though, an initial test run should determine whether it's something you'll enjoy using long-term or not.

P.S. – If you make your own house/apartment/condo/yurt a 4sq location, you are officially a lame-o.** Unless you live in a hostel or a frequently trafficked flophouse, that is cheating. It may not be a federal crime or a sin, but it's still wrong.

**This obviously doesn't apply if you're extremely charming, witty, and amusing. Normal caveats apply - if you think you're witty, you're probably not. If you think your affectations are amusing rather than annoying, that's probably not true either. It is possible, though. And in the unusual case that you are charming, witty and amusing, you hardly need me giving you advice, now do you?

Respond