Written by Barbara Anderson and Larry Berliner
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
churches, mosques, and palaces - part one
Written by Barbara Anderson
The day after Larry's birthday we successfully found our way to Sultanahmet to visit some of the sites that had eluded us earlier. The ferry crossing was one of the least crowded we ever have taken. We sat in a lounge area and had tea, all omens of the lovely day that followed.
Getting off the ferry at Eminonu, we found ourselves in the usual crowds. Larry stopped to have corn on the cob, an omnipresent treat at little stands along with the sesame covered simits (bagels), and then we found our way through an underground market (where we bought a very cheap watch for me) to the trolley stop for the Sultanahmet area. The atmosphere had changed; the buildings were older, the streets narrower, and the shops selling everything a tourist could ever associate with Turkey were filling every spot we passed. We were in the heart of the old town, the place most tourists know as quintessential Istanbul. Restaurants were abundant with prices marked up for the tourist market...and the hustlers worked their trade outside every shop trying to lure the hoped for customers inside.
But our destination was Hagia Sophia, the ancient church dedicated to Holy Wisdom (not St. Sophia as some of the guidebooks say), which became a mosque when the Ottomans conquered Constantinople in 1453 and then became a museum after Ataturk. One of the greatest examples of Byzantine architecture, it is the treasure of the city, a monument to man's religious aspirations, and a building I had studied in art history. Only St Peter's in Rome was more famous; for almost 1000 years it was the center of worship for the Christian faith in the eastern mediterranean. Legend has it that Mehmet the Conqueror sprinkled dirt on his head before he entered it as a sign of his humility in entering the church. But then he had the mosaics remaining after the earlier attacks of the Iconoclasts covered with plaster, and minarets were built to surround it, signifying the end to its place in Christendom. And for almost 500 years it was a mosque...Apparently, there have been movements to turn it into a church again, as a sign of reconciliation, but perhaps its status as a museum to the centuries of believers of 2 faith is more appropriate.
All the descriptions and all the pictures fail to prepare you for the space inside, for the sense of being in a giant dome seemingly floating on air. For Larry, it was just an old building with way too many Arabic inscriptions covering what must once have been a glorious display of mosaics. but I think he was playing the role of a latterday Innocent Abroad (I can't wait to reread Twain when I get home)...And certainly, the long walk up a series of ramps did remind us of years of walking up similar ramps (albeit 1200 years younger) to B deck in Ohio Stadium. On the upper level, you can see where the emperor sat during services (the ramps provided access for the horses carrying him to his seat) and the mosaics that have been uncovered. Perhaps in time, more will emerge from behind the plaster, and Aya Sofya (its name here) will reveal more of its Christian origins. But I kept reminding Larry that this great building with its massive dome became the prototype for subsequent orthodox churches and mosques, which is why its shape seemed so familiar to him as a kind of mosque...
But I was struck by some of the mosaics which remain, especially a hauntingly beautiful figure of Christ, which captured His humanity in a moving way. I felt I was sharing a moment of worship with centuries of earlier believers..That feeling would be asserted even more strongly when we visited the Chora Church a few days later. How the dome must have inspired worshippers when it too was covered with mosaics...
Leaving Aya Sofya, we walked to the nearby Blue Mosque, built to rival the grandeur of its neighbor. I donned my scarf but still wasn't adequately covered in the eyes of the people directing visitors to remove their shoes. I had memories of the Dome of the Rock over 30 years ago when Saskia and I were told to leave the courtyard area because we were indecently dressed (I was wearing a dress with cap sleeves that barely covered my knees). Now I understood what had mystified us then and , to be honest, had infuriated us since there had been such rude intrusion of commercialism by Christian sites in the Old City, like the sign "Jesus Prison Souvenirs." As we waited to enter the mosque with its 6 minarets (to surpass the 4 surrounding Aya Sofya), a Turkish man offered to "guide" us. We had been warned to avoid the would be guides, who would offer a tour for a price, but this man only wanted us to visit his carpet shop afterwards. However, his commentary on the essential elements of Islam did get in the way of my appreciation of the glorious tiles that fill every surface, the brilliant blues in the tiles giving the mosque its name. Certainly, its interior is more beautiful than its older sister nearby..And we hope we get another chance to enter it and appreciate its beauty on our own terms.
The visit to the carpet shop was low key; we sampled tea (which we have learned is customary in every shop), talked generally about the different kinds of carpets, and realized how little we knew. But we had never planned to invest in a carpet during our stay here; we didn't even know where we would put another carpet in our house. I may sometimes wish we could remove the wall to wall carpeting in our living and dining rooms and replace it with hard wood floors, a change that would make oriental rugs a necessity. But that idea is in the wish category with a mountain home...|We left without buying a carpet as we would 2 other stores into which we were lured later in our travels. So proudly we think of ourselves as travelers, not tourists to be lured into the souvenir shops, and yet there are always moments when the itch to buy, to be the tourist accumulating junk and not just memories takes over...Since I'm never carrying any money, I may be tempted, but I have no way to succumb/
We had hoped to have some time to get refreshed at the Marmara Hotel before meeting Larry's cousin for an evening with our Turkish relatives, but he was already waiting for us when we emerged from the funicular in Taksim. He drove us along the Bosporus, past the old city walls to the apartment building where his daughter lived. We were to join the extended family for Rosh Hashana. Larry needs to add his own memories of a lovely evening with cousins who quickly made us feel at home, sharing Meral's cuisine (including dishes she only prepares once a year). Lively children , Nedem's grandchildren, reminded me of ours at similar ages although there was no family resemblance The little girl was wearing Micky Mouse socks, just like Anni did for so many years...
Nedem dropped us at Kabitas where we took the last ferry of the night to reach the last #19 bus of the night. We had spent a day visiting church, mosque, and family...What better way to end our first weekend of venturing out past the hills at Yeditepe.
The day after Larry's birthday we successfully found our way to Sultanahmet to visit some of the sites that had eluded us earlier. The ferry crossing was one of the least crowded we ever have taken. We sat in a lounge area and had tea, all omens of the lovely day that followed.
Getting off the ferry at Eminonu, we found ourselves in the usual crowds. Larry stopped to have corn on the cob, an omnipresent treat at little stands along with the sesame covered simits (bagels), and then we found our way through an underground market (where we bought a very cheap watch for me) to the trolley stop for the Sultanahmet area. The atmosphere had changed; the buildings were older, the streets narrower, and the shops selling everything a tourist could ever associate with Turkey were filling every spot we passed. We were in the heart of the old town, the place most tourists know as quintessential Istanbul. Restaurants were abundant with prices marked up for the tourist market...and the hustlers worked their trade outside every shop trying to lure the hoped for customers inside.
But our destination was Hagia Sophia, the ancient church dedicated to Holy Wisdom (not St. Sophia as some of the guidebooks say), which became a mosque when the Ottomans conquered Constantinople in 1453 and then became a museum after Ataturk. One of the greatest examples of Byzantine architecture, it is the treasure of the city, a monument to man's religious aspirations, and a building I had studied in art history. Only St Peter's in Rome was more famous; for almost 1000 years it was the center of worship for the Christian faith in the eastern mediterranean. Legend has it that Mehmet the Conqueror sprinkled dirt on his head before he entered it as a sign of his humility in entering the church. But then he had the mosaics remaining after the earlier attacks of the Iconoclasts covered with plaster, and minarets were built to surround it, signifying the end to its place in Christendom. And for almost 500 years it was a mosque...Apparently, there have been movements to turn it into a church again, as a sign of reconciliation, but perhaps its status as a museum to the centuries of believers of 2 faith is more appropriate.
All the descriptions and all the pictures fail to prepare you for the space inside, for the sense of being in a giant dome seemingly floating on air. For Larry, it was just an old building with way too many Arabic inscriptions covering what must once have been a glorious display of mosaics. but I think he was playing the role of a latterday Innocent Abroad (I can't wait to reread Twain when I get home)...And certainly, the long walk up a series of ramps did remind us of years of walking up similar ramps (albeit 1200 years younger) to B deck in Ohio Stadium. On the upper level, you can see where the emperor sat during services (the ramps provided access for the horses carrying him to his seat) and the mosaics that have been uncovered. Perhaps in time, more will emerge from behind the plaster, and Aya Sofya (its name here) will reveal more of its Christian origins. But I kept reminding Larry that this great building with its massive dome became the prototype for subsequent orthodox churches and mosques, which is why its shape seemed so familiar to him as a kind of mosque...
But I was struck by some of the mosaics which remain, especially a hauntingly beautiful figure of Christ, which captured His humanity in a moving way. I felt I was sharing a moment of worship with centuries of earlier believers..That feeling would be asserted even more strongly when we visited the Chora Church a few days later. How the dome must have inspired worshippers when it too was covered with mosaics...
Leaving Aya Sofya, we walked to the nearby Blue Mosque, built to rival the grandeur of its neighbor. I donned my scarf but still wasn't adequately covered in the eyes of the people directing visitors to remove their shoes. I had memories of the Dome of the Rock over 30 years ago when Saskia and I were told to leave the courtyard area because we were indecently dressed (I was wearing a dress with cap sleeves that barely covered my knees). Now I understood what had mystified us then and , to be honest, had infuriated us since there had been such rude intrusion of commercialism by Christian sites in the Old City, like the sign "Jesus Prison Souvenirs." As we waited to enter the mosque with its 6 minarets (to surpass the 4 surrounding Aya Sofya), a Turkish man offered to "guide" us. We had been warned to avoid the would be guides, who would offer a tour for a price, but this man only wanted us to visit his carpet shop afterwards. However, his commentary on the essential elements of Islam did get in the way of my appreciation of the glorious tiles that fill every surface, the brilliant blues in the tiles giving the mosque its name. Certainly, its interior is more beautiful than its older sister nearby..And we hope we get another chance to enter it and appreciate its beauty on our own terms.
The visit to the carpet shop was low key; we sampled tea (which we have learned is customary in every shop), talked generally about the different kinds of carpets, and realized how little we knew. But we had never planned to invest in a carpet during our stay here; we didn't even know where we would put another carpet in our house. I may sometimes wish we could remove the wall to wall carpeting in our living and dining rooms and replace it with hard wood floors, a change that would make oriental rugs a necessity. But that idea is in the wish category with a mountain home...|We left without buying a carpet as we would 2 other stores into which we were lured later in our travels. So proudly we think of ourselves as travelers, not tourists to be lured into the souvenir shops, and yet there are always moments when the itch to buy, to be the tourist accumulating junk and not just memories takes over...Since I'm never carrying any money, I may be tempted, but I have no way to succumb/
We had hoped to have some time to get refreshed at the Marmara Hotel before meeting Larry's cousin for an evening with our Turkish relatives, but he was already waiting for us when we emerged from the funicular in Taksim. He drove us along the Bosporus, past the old city walls to the apartment building where his daughter lived. We were to join the extended family for Rosh Hashana. Larry needs to add his own memories of a lovely evening with cousins who quickly made us feel at home, sharing Meral's cuisine (including dishes she only prepares once a year). Lively children , Nedem's grandchildren, reminded me of ours at similar ages although there was no family resemblance The little girl was wearing Micky Mouse socks, just like Anni did for so many years...
Nedem dropped us at Kabitas where we took the last ferry of the night to reach the last #19 bus of the night. We had spent a day visiting church, mosque, and family...What better way to end our first weekend of venturing out past the hills at Yeditepe.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
more yeditepe thoughts
Besides the Ataturk pictures, some buildings display a large picture of the Founder, a smiling chubby Madoff-like face, apparently a former Mayor of Istanbul, who is now "away." We hear rumors that he and his family owe an enormous tax bill to the turkish authorities, which is why he is "away." But everything is quietly whispered...Curiously, we might know more if we could understand Turkish since there is a verb tense used only for rumor or conjecture...
Security is a major issue. A formidable metal gate stands at the top of the steep hill we climb to leave the university grounds. We must pass through security to enter the university, and cars without some type of special clearance are inspected. Trunks are opened; mirrors are placed underneath cars...Even the dogs may play some role in security. I had been curious about their seeming silence, but then witnessed a pack of them snarling at a car. There is a second entrance also manned by security guards..We can only wonder at the reason for the precautions...Even Larry's building is "protected." His office and classroom are open to anyone, but to enter the department offices he must use a special magnetized pass. Just now I had to rush over to give him his pass, which he had left in our room, because he couldn't join his colleagues for their morning coffee!
Our tv viewing is rather earnest stuff, only what we can access on line:charlie rose, 60 Minutes, News hour with Jim Lehrer...but we do some turkish tv while we eat. In the morning as we eat our toast and olives in the student cafeteria, we can see Turkish music videos displayed on the flat screen tvs. At lunch in the faculty club restaurant the flat screen televisions present restful, hypnotic scenes of fish...At night in the same locale we'll see Turkish news, always local stories..A few nights ago the lead story was obviously about a demonstration going on in Taksim with police and protesters fighting each other. We watched demonstrators lobbing rocks into store fronts, looting...police lobbing tear gas canisters...Innocent bystanders rushing to get away...It looked so intense and dramatic. We read later that the protests were against the meeting of the IMF going on in Istanbul. turkey has one of the 20 largest economies in the world, but , as we have seen, there is a wide gap between the haves and the have nots...But no one else seemed to think much about the demonstrations; they occur from time to time. What to American eyes looked upsetting was the physical violence...It seemed not to have ever been intended as a peaceful protest...but our knowledge is so limited. Just seeing the news without understanding the words gives a rather skewered view of everything!
And when we eat in the student fast food area on the weekends, we'll see football matches or once a basketball game between the national teams of turkey and greece. The game went into overtime, and the intensity of emotion of students hinted at the historic conflicts between the two countries. The students were so silent when greece finally won..
Security is a major issue. A formidable metal gate stands at the top of the steep hill we climb to leave the university grounds. We must pass through security to enter the university, and cars without some type of special clearance are inspected. Trunks are opened; mirrors are placed underneath cars...Even the dogs may play some role in security. I had been curious about their seeming silence, but then witnessed a pack of them snarling at a car. There is a second entrance also manned by security guards..We can only wonder at the reason for the precautions...Even Larry's building is "protected." His office and classroom are open to anyone, but to enter the department offices he must use a special magnetized pass. Just now I had to rush over to give him his pass, which he had left in our room, because he couldn't join his colleagues for their morning coffee!
Our tv viewing is rather earnest stuff, only what we can access on line:charlie rose, 60 Minutes, News hour with Jim Lehrer...but we do some turkish tv while we eat. In the morning as we eat our toast and olives in the student cafeteria, we can see Turkish music videos displayed on the flat screen tvs. At lunch in the faculty club restaurant the flat screen televisions present restful, hypnotic scenes of fish...At night in the same locale we'll see Turkish news, always local stories..A few nights ago the lead story was obviously about a demonstration going on in Taksim with police and protesters fighting each other. We watched demonstrators lobbing rocks into store fronts, looting...police lobbing tear gas canisters...Innocent bystanders rushing to get away...It looked so intense and dramatic. We read later that the protests were against the meeting of the IMF going on in Istanbul. turkey has one of the 20 largest economies in the world, but , as we have seen, there is a wide gap between the haves and the have nots...But no one else seemed to think much about the demonstrations; they occur from time to time. What to American eyes looked upsetting was the physical violence...It seemed not to have ever been intended as a peaceful protest...but our knowledge is so limited. Just seeing the news without understanding the words gives a rather skewered view of everything!
And when we eat in the student fast food area on the weekends, we'll see football matches or once a basketball game between the national teams of turkey and greece. The game went into overtime, and the intensity of emotion of students hinted at the historic conflicts between the two countries. The students were so silent when greece finally won..
Selected observations about Yeditepe
From Barbara: The excitement this week has been the Nobel Prize announcements. Tomorrow Larry will give his Nobel Prize talk. Advertisements with his face superimposed on the Nobel medal are visible all over the campus. Before lunch every day he and Mustafa sit by a computer screen awaiting the news from Sweden, and once the names(and sometimes faces) flash across the screen they rush to share the news and reflect on the appropriateness of the choices. Sometimes Larry has a story to tell about this or that prize. It's like women watching the Academy Awards to see the dresses...But what a joy to see Larry in his element, far away from the petty politics of his department, talking science gossip and feeling on top of the world..
There is a wonderful friendliness here. Birthday parties abound. Students and faculty gather to celebrate, with large plates of borek and cake. Today the cake featured sparklers as well as candles...What a treat to have boreks instead of pizza..
Larry had never mentioned his birthday to anyone except Renad; will there be a belated celebration? Students everywhere will find any excuse for the party, the free food, to break up the monotony of school.
In the morning when we eat in the student cafeteria we join the crowds selecting from the identical breakfast plates, putting stacks of bread through the toaster; all of us shaking the morning sleepiness out of our eyes with cups of chai or Nescafe..The students could be students anywhere. I'm seeing now Uggs on many feet which earlier were wearing every color of Converse sneakers. Skinny jeans on the girls, Gap and Abercombie sweatshirts...100s of heads of dark curls...how strikingly different my naturally strawberry blonde Anni would be here. Allegra would almost blend into the crowds although her skin is too ivory colored.. See how my children fill my thoughts? And no one looks like Anders or Rob although the occasional piercing blue eyes will stare back at us...And sometimes there is an echo of American English; someplace there are foreign students here for a short time as we are and probably as lost and as at home as we are...
One of the special delights of the university are the small pockets of trees filled with picnic tables where people gather on sunny days. We walk through them on our way to meals and always think how civilized...except there are way too many people smoking and sometimes we have to step over sleeping dogs...And to the south of the campus buildings are the hills still covered with trees, a remnant of what must have filled the hills above Istanbul before it became a sprawling mass of 15 million people spread out over 2 sides of the Bosporus.
The library is subtitled the "Knowledge Center" and occupies one floor of the administration building. Sometimes we find an English language paper here or a Time or Newsweek, but it is mainly a place for me to browse and wonder at the curious selections in the English and American Literature sections. The classics, yes, and odd best sellers....But as my supply of books from home is depleted, it's a welcome source of reading...
Wandering around the local neighborhood is an adventure, too. One night we wandered out beyond the gate to find Larry a barber shop, and there the shops were, down a side street, a whole cluster of them. Larry chose one at random. We sat and had apple tea, that delightful custom we're discovering everywhere in shops whether they are hustling carpets or cutting hair, while we waited. He was the first American to have his hair cut there and was immediately the center of attention. Somehow the barber understood what he wanted (I had had visions of a totally shaved head because of the language problem) although the price was not the bargain Larry had assumed it would be. But his beard looks great...and for a few weeks he wears his Turkish souvenir: a Turkish haircut...
On the weekend when we had planned to visit one of the islands in the Sea of Marmara, the rain (and a recurring digestive problem I'm having) changed our plans. We stayed at the university until it cleared and then went for a short walk near by, stopping to have pomegranate juice at a stand and to eat at a nearby kafte and talk to a waiter eager to try out his English on native speakers. We wandered into shops offering samples of cookies and candies and filled a bag with our versions of Turkish delights. We strolled by an old wooden mosque, painted white and trimmed in red.. I wonder which mosque is the source of the calls to prayer I hear when the window is open...We compared prices at grocery stores, bought some glasses with the special tulip shape so at home we can still have "Turkish" style tea. Just like locals, we headed up the hill to the university, our arms filled with bags...Not the "adventure" we had planned, but a pleasant stroll in this Yeditepe neighborhood. One sign of how removed we are from the familiar, though. In a vacant lot a sheep was tied, and behind it we saw a truck filled with live sheep, all destined to be sacrificed in the upcoming Bayrim holiday...Biblical echoes...
There is a wonderful friendliness here. Birthday parties abound. Students and faculty gather to celebrate, with large plates of borek and cake. Today the cake featured sparklers as well as candles...What a treat to have boreks instead of pizza..
Larry had never mentioned his birthday to anyone except Renad; will there be a belated celebration? Students everywhere will find any excuse for the party, the free food, to break up the monotony of school.
In the morning when we eat in the student cafeteria we join the crowds selecting from the identical breakfast plates, putting stacks of bread through the toaster; all of us shaking the morning sleepiness out of our eyes with cups of chai or Nescafe..The students could be students anywhere. I'm seeing now Uggs on many feet which earlier were wearing every color of Converse sneakers. Skinny jeans on the girls, Gap and Abercombie sweatshirts...100s of heads of dark curls...how strikingly different my naturally strawberry blonde Anni would be here. Allegra would almost blend into the crowds although her skin is too ivory colored.. See how my children fill my thoughts? And no one looks like Anders or Rob although the occasional piercing blue eyes will stare back at us...And sometimes there is an echo of American English; someplace there are foreign students here for a short time as we are and probably as lost and as at home as we are...
One of the special delights of the university are the small pockets of trees filled with picnic tables where people gather on sunny days. We walk through them on our way to meals and always think how civilized...except there are way too many people smoking and sometimes we have to step over sleeping dogs...And to the south of the campus buildings are the hills still covered with trees, a remnant of what must have filled the hills above Istanbul before it became a sprawling mass of 15 million people spread out over 2 sides of the Bosporus.
The library is subtitled the "Knowledge Center" and occupies one floor of the administration building. Sometimes we find an English language paper here or a Time or Newsweek, but it is mainly a place for me to browse and wonder at the curious selections in the English and American Literature sections. The classics, yes, and odd best sellers....But as my supply of books from home is depleted, it's a welcome source of reading...
Wandering around the local neighborhood is an adventure, too. One night we wandered out beyond the gate to find Larry a barber shop, and there the shops were, down a side street, a whole cluster of them. Larry chose one at random. We sat and had apple tea, that delightful custom we're discovering everywhere in shops whether they are hustling carpets or cutting hair, while we waited. He was the first American to have his hair cut there and was immediately the center of attention. Somehow the barber understood what he wanted (I had had visions of a totally shaved head because of the language problem) although the price was not the bargain Larry had assumed it would be. But his beard looks great...and for a few weeks he wears his Turkish souvenir: a Turkish haircut...
On the weekend when we had planned to visit one of the islands in the Sea of Marmara, the rain (and a recurring digestive problem I'm having) changed our plans. We stayed at the university until it cleared and then went for a short walk near by, stopping to have pomegranate juice at a stand and to eat at a nearby kafte and talk to a waiter eager to try out his English on native speakers. We wandered into shops offering samples of cookies and candies and filled a bag with our versions of Turkish delights. We strolled by an old wooden mosque, painted white and trimmed in red.. I wonder which mosque is the source of the calls to prayer I hear when the window is open...We compared prices at grocery stores, bought some glasses with the special tulip shape so at home we can still have "Turkish" style tea. Just like locals, we headed up the hill to the university, our arms filled with bags...Not the "adventure" we had planned, but a pleasant stroll in this Yeditepe neighborhood. One sign of how removed we are from the familiar, though. In a vacant lot a sheep was tied, and behind it we saw a truck filled with live sheep, all destined to be sacrificed in the upcoming Bayrim holiday...Biblical echoes...
how I spend my days
From Barbara: Always the question... Larry sits in his office, prepares lectures, chats with fellow scientists, sends e-mails, lectures, gives scientific advice...His days change little regardless of setting, or so it always seemed to the children when they were little and had to answer the question what daddy did. But what about me in this place where I don't have to clean, prepare food, fulfill any of the housekeeping chores which fill a little of my time in Colorado? People ask if I'm bored since during the week we don't sight see. I'm obviously tied to the university campus, which has limited places to explore...But what a silly question...since I have stacks of books to read, e-mails to write and answer, a reading journal to write...Boredom would only be a problem for someone with no imagination.
We have fallen into a routine. Our traditional breakfast at 8, lunch at 1, dinner at 6:30 or 7, viewing of the News Hour from the previous night followed by charlie Rose...Oh, it's all so predictable...and sometimes we'll hear the bloop of Skype telling us one of the girls is on..and for a moment we could be home chatting about the day's trivia..
But I like my days of reading and writing. I like wondering what book to pick up next. I like the time to think and wonder and imagine...I just wish sometimes I could share more of the moments with those I love. I wish Anders could watch the strange football practices taking place down the hill from our dorm where Turkish players try to master the art of tackling or receiving...Larry teases me that I should be their cheerleader or at least give them pointers on how American football is really played...especially since rules about holding seem not to be part of their playbook. Tackling looks like wrestling holds resulting in players being lifted above the tackle's head and then thrown to the ground. It's a wonder there aren't more practice injuries...But we will never see an actual game; the season apparently starts sometime in November, and no one can tell us what teams this ragtag group of Yeditepe football players play. Certainly on the tv we see in the student center, soccer is the game of choice, prompting the noisy cheers of an American college football audience at a sports bar...
I wish Anni could sit with me, pencil or paint brush in hand, and capture the mood and sight of the sunsets we see as we eat dinner. The buildings, so often seeming nondescript during the day, become ethereal in the purple and orange streaks before dusk.
I wish Allegra could hear the echoes of voices calling in the distance from the minarets. I wish our Turkish travels could include the children, all of them, Rob, too, like so many travels in the past when their children's eyes found the most amazing sights we would never have noticed. I miss those other sets of eyes, perhaps more sophisticated now, but still so full of strange awareness and insight.
Just as I traveled for years with Larry in my imagination as he set off for innumerable foreign meetings and we stayed home and could only picture where he was, I hope our children travel with us now in their mind's eye, knowing someday this world or maybe one we will never see will also be theirs...To travel and become part of a larger world, not to stay within the safe confines of tours and American style hotels (not that a real bath tub wouldn't be a much appreciated luxury right now), but to see in a new way with open eyes to a world so rich, so varied that can only make you somehow larger, more human...citizens of the world, cherishing home, but treasuring what every new place offers.
So how do I spend my days? Don't worry. They are rich and varied even if I just open a book, send a few messages, walk up and down the hills of this campus, chat with Larry's colleagues...never boring...And to see the pleasure Larry has here would make this experience worthwhile even without the sunsets...
We have fallen into a routine. Our traditional breakfast at 8, lunch at 1, dinner at 6:30 or 7, viewing of the News Hour from the previous night followed by charlie Rose...Oh, it's all so predictable...and sometimes we'll hear the bloop of Skype telling us one of the girls is on..and for a moment we could be home chatting about the day's trivia..
But I like my days of reading and writing. I like wondering what book to pick up next. I like the time to think and wonder and imagine...I just wish sometimes I could share more of the moments with those I love. I wish Anders could watch the strange football practices taking place down the hill from our dorm where Turkish players try to master the art of tackling or receiving...Larry teases me that I should be their cheerleader or at least give them pointers on how American football is really played...especially since rules about holding seem not to be part of their playbook. Tackling looks like wrestling holds resulting in players being lifted above the tackle's head and then thrown to the ground. It's a wonder there aren't more practice injuries...But we will never see an actual game; the season apparently starts sometime in November, and no one can tell us what teams this ragtag group of Yeditepe football players play. Certainly on the tv we see in the student center, soccer is the game of choice, prompting the noisy cheers of an American college football audience at a sports bar...
I wish Anni could sit with me, pencil or paint brush in hand, and capture the mood and sight of the sunsets we see as we eat dinner. The buildings, so often seeming nondescript during the day, become ethereal in the purple and orange streaks before dusk.
I wish Allegra could hear the echoes of voices calling in the distance from the minarets. I wish our Turkish travels could include the children, all of them, Rob, too, like so many travels in the past when their children's eyes found the most amazing sights we would never have noticed. I miss those other sets of eyes, perhaps more sophisticated now, but still so full of strange awareness and insight.
Just as I traveled for years with Larry in my imagination as he set off for innumerable foreign meetings and we stayed home and could only picture where he was, I hope our children travel with us now in their mind's eye, knowing someday this world or maybe one we will never see will also be theirs...To travel and become part of a larger world, not to stay within the safe confines of tours and American style hotels (not that a real bath tub wouldn't be a much appreciated luxury right now), but to see in a new way with open eyes to a world so rich, so varied that can only make you somehow larger, more human...citizens of the world, cherishing home, but treasuring what every new place offers.
So how do I spend my days? Don't worry. They are rich and varied even if I just open a book, send a few messages, walk up and down the hills of this campus, chat with Larry's colleagues...never boring...And to see the pleasure Larry has here would make this experience worthwhile even without the sunsets...
Thursday, October 1, 2009
TurkishTraveler too
From Barbara: For Larry, Turkey was a chance to explore his roots, to find after 30 years the moment I had known in a small Swedish cemetery where generations of my ancestors slept before me, their grave markers a friendly pat away. For him he does not need a cemetery; meeting cousins, sitting in a Sephardi synagogue making connection with his ancestors although they may never have attended it, climbing the hills, feeling the breezes off the Bosporus are more than enough to feel he has found an ancestral home.
For me Turkey was initially a place to get away.the name did not matter, as long as it was away and part of a new adventure with Larry. Wherever we went, I would be looking for the future in the past, recapturing the early days when we stayed in shabby hotels, ate apples for meals, and never cared because where we were together mattered more than insignificant luxuries. And while Turkey was not my first choice (I wanted Europe, the familiarity of museums and theatres), why not turkey? Midnight Express surely was a period piece, describing a country and conditions that only had existed in a more drug pervaded world. And it seemed that everyone had been to Turkey and expressed a bored ho hum to what seemed so exotic to us (however, that was such a wrong reading; turkey is not on the most visited list of most people I know). So off to turkey on the magic carpet of imagination, multiple books in hand, ready to be young again and live and travel with a freedom of spirit we have not known in years.
I joined Larry after 2 weeks in which he settled in, met his Turkish cousins, and fell in love with this new stop on his world travels. Arriving late at night, I had first impressions of endless rows of high rise apartment buildings, a long wide bridge, hills, and lights enclosing all the minarets...When we arrived at the university, we passed through a high gate, rushed down a steep hill, turned into a nother narrow street,and stopped by a tall building, our dorm. the guest hotel for us would be the boys' dorm, convenient for Larry as his building is only 5 minutes walk away. the next day we would check out the guest hotel, which was similar to our spartan digs with the exception of a television and pictures on the wall. the boys dorm would continue to be our home, and there was a cozy comfort in the bare walls. Outside we could the voices of children playing in the neighborhood beyond the walls of the university (we are cloistered here, set aside from the crowded neighborhood) and sometimes early in the morning if we leave the windows open and invite in the bugs, we can hear the calls to prayer from the nearest mosque, a reminder that we are in a very different world from the ones we have known before.
My first few days here were ones of getting acclimated, figuring out where Larry's office was (the first day a challenge), discovering the food options. Larry had said I would not like the turkish breakfast, which he loves; he knows me well. I eat the toast, sometimes a few olives and drink my tea and think about eating omelets and pancakes made by Anni. There is nothing wrong with the Turkish breakfast; it's just my northern European soul wants something else! every morning it is the same. We walk into the student cafeteria and see dozens of identical plates,all with the same contents, all covered with plastic wrap, the ubiquitous 2 hunks of white cheese, slice of cold meat (looks like bologna), half a tomato, a wedge of cucumber, and 6 olives...In a basket on an adjacent wall are pieces of bread to put through the toaster, a conveyor belt of sorts, which warms and almost toasts one side of the bread... Larry eats half a dozen slices each morning as well as everything else on his plate; I discreetly cover my 2 slices with cherry jam and remember that for years as a child, my breakfast was quite similar. Bea would hand me my plate of toast as I sat by the warm register on the floor (like the family pet dog), and when no one was looking I would hide the crust in the register. such a strange child I was...
Finally, on Friday, Larry's birthday, we decided to explore the face of Istanbul tourists see. Larry knew how to get to Taksim, a central bus location in Pera, the section of Istanbul across from the Old City. He suggested we get on a double decker bus so I could see the sights...But the sights were an endless parade of concrete high rise apartments interspersed with vacant lots filled with litter. Small shops selling an assortments of items, always clustered together (the shoe stores in clusters, the green grocers, the hardware stores, etc). And the trip seemed endless. Where was the beautiful city I had read about, where was the exotic, the special? From my vantage point I could have been in any mediterranean city or middle eastern one with more poverty than grandeur. And Taksim itself was confusing. For the first time in my many travels with Larry, he could not figure out how to find a bus to the Old City or even which street to head down so that we could possibly walk across the Galata bridge and find things on our own. No one seemed to speak English. He tried in vain to purchase an akbil(the pass which makes public transportation easier to use)...But it was his birthday, not a day to complain...
We ate a doner, chicken wrapped in a pita, wandered aimlessly around the streets adjacent to Taksim with its large statue of Ataturk, who else (his face is omnipresent; I'm almost surprised his portrait is not hanging above our bed...), discovering a small China town, steep streets lined with shops, but where was the long great shopping street I had read about, where were the mosques and museums?
Realizing we needed a better map, we decided to find the tourist office, which was supposed to be at the Hilton Hotel...We headed off in another direction where the name hotels could be spotted...ending up on a wooden walkway looking out on a park...and somewhere in the distance, across an inaccessible busy road was the Hilton..We proceeded down the path ( at least the views were lovely and I was warming up to the day's adventure) walking down into a park that lined 2 sides of a busy highway. Paths led down to a large stadium and beyond that to the waterfront. We were making progress! Along the way we stopped to explore the interior of the Ritz Carlton (oh, so posh, so worlds removed from our abode!). Actually, it was the intrepid Larry who wandered in ; I sat on a bench looking at beds of flowers and waited until he reappeared insisting I also see the lobby and the art gallery featuring kilim carpets that seemed in flight...spectacular views of the Bosporus and the Asian side in the lobby and the delight of freshly squeezed pomegranate juice offered to all the guests..
The adventure was becoming a pleasure, not a drudgery , as we continued walking to the Bosporus, passing the Dolmabahce Palace, where the sultans lived in the last decades of the Ottoman Empire, seemingly endlesss rows of mosques and fish restaurants, seaside parks filled with odd sculpture, the Istanbul Modern Art Museum ( in what appeared to be a converted warehouse), large cruise ships looming over the shoreline...We walked for seemingly miles, but we both were delighting in thd discoveries...Even the endless stray dogs (absolutely everywhere in Istanbul, and I've discovered in my reading a centuries old phenomenon western visitors have always commented on) were not a problem...We finally reached Kabatas where we could get a ferry to the Asian side and Larry could finally purchase the long sought akbil...We knew we had to get back to Yeditepe since larry's Russian friend, Renad, was meeting us for dinner, a birthday dinner. And as we passed the Old Town, the dome of Hagia Sophia looming over the scene in a misty postcard kind of view, I spoke wistfully of hoping that wasn't the closest we would ever get to the istanbul of countless travel books...But we seemed to know now that Taksim was not the way to reach the Old Town, that ferries, the source of travel across the Bosporus for centuries, would also be our means to reach the places we wanted to see.
Of course, the day continued with its frustrations. We could not find the bus we wanted, the #19, which has become our"friend" on our travels, and ended up on the #14ks. Never, never, take the #14ks to Yeditepe...An hour and 10 minutes of rush hour traffic..we never seemed to move, we were so crowded that we wondered if we would be able to get to the door if we ever reached the familiar looming gate to the University...And we were already late to meet Renad..and his family. A subsequent trip on the same ill-fated bus was also as long, as crowded, as frustrating...we've learned our lesson..Even if #19 is crowded at Kadikoy, our bus terminus, it is better to stand for a half hour than sit for over an hour...
But it was Larry's birthday; everything had to work out happily. Renad was also late. Larry could order his favorite meal of spaghetti bolonez and revel in the day's adventure. And now we knew how to get where we wanted to go!
Oh, the petulance...Now I have come to enjoy the long bus rides to Kadikoy, marking the familiar landmarks,the vacant lot where sheep are sometimes tied, the lighting fixture store, the endless string of barber shops(we amused ourselves one night counting the ones still open at 11pm), the cemetery behind the hospital, the walk along the highway we took the morning we were looking for the Metrobus stop, the women with heads covered with colorful scarves (still maybe 25% of the women we see)...And the concrete buildings no longer seem so anonymous;different colors mark them, different windows. the bus trips have become the adventure Larry promised that first day. and the rush of buses at Kadikoy, the stalls selling fish and chestnuts and semits (the sesame covered bagel-like pastries) seem part of a fascinating bazaar...the city is capturing my heart, too, and it's the city tourists do not see...The ferry crossings always enchant, especially if timed to coincide with sunset..Seeing the mosques and minarets of Fatih (the Old town) in a reddish purple haze will be a favorite lasting memory...and the approaching facade of the train station on the Asian side (so much more impressive than the terminus of the Orient Express on the European side)... and the odd sculpture near the ferry terminal in Kadikoy, and the islands off in the distance...and the waiters carrying trays of tea on the ferry...Oh, what a lovely way to get around! First impressions, as Jane Austen so aptly described in the same named novel which became Pride and Prejudice, are so often incomplete...
For me Turkey was initially a place to get away.the name did not matter, as long as it was away and part of a new adventure with Larry. Wherever we went, I would be looking for the future in the past, recapturing the early days when we stayed in shabby hotels, ate apples for meals, and never cared because where we were together mattered more than insignificant luxuries. And while Turkey was not my first choice (I wanted Europe, the familiarity of museums and theatres), why not turkey? Midnight Express surely was a period piece, describing a country and conditions that only had existed in a more drug pervaded world. And it seemed that everyone had been to Turkey and expressed a bored ho hum to what seemed so exotic to us (however, that was such a wrong reading; turkey is not on the most visited list of most people I know). So off to turkey on the magic carpet of imagination, multiple books in hand, ready to be young again and live and travel with a freedom of spirit we have not known in years.
I joined Larry after 2 weeks in which he settled in, met his Turkish cousins, and fell in love with this new stop on his world travels. Arriving late at night, I had first impressions of endless rows of high rise apartment buildings, a long wide bridge, hills, and lights enclosing all the minarets...When we arrived at the university, we passed through a high gate, rushed down a steep hill, turned into a nother narrow street,and stopped by a tall building, our dorm. the guest hotel for us would be the boys' dorm, convenient for Larry as his building is only 5 minutes walk away. the next day we would check out the guest hotel, which was similar to our spartan digs with the exception of a television and pictures on the wall. the boys dorm would continue to be our home, and there was a cozy comfort in the bare walls. Outside we could the voices of children playing in the neighborhood beyond the walls of the university (we are cloistered here, set aside from the crowded neighborhood) and sometimes early in the morning if we leave the windows open and invite in the bugs, we can hear the calls to prayer from the nearest mosque, a reminder that we are in a very different world from the ones we have known before.
My first few days here were ones of getting acclimated, figuring out where Larry's office was (the first day a challenge), discovering the food options. Larry had said I would not like the turkish breakfast, which he loves; he knows me well. I eat the toast, sometimes a few olives and drink my tea and think about eating omelets and pancakes made by Anni. There is nothing wrong with the Turkish breakfast; it's just my northern European soul wants something else! every morning it is the same. We walk into the student cafeteria and see dozens of identical plates,all with the same contents, all covered with plastic wrap, the ubiquitous 2 hunks of white cheese, slice of cold meat (looks like bologna), half a tomato, a wedge of cucumber, and 6 olives...In a basket on an adjacent wall are pieces of bread to put through the toaster, a conveyor belt of sorts, which warms and almost toasts one side of the bread... Larry eats half a dozen slices each morning as well as everything else on his plate; I discreetly cover my 2 slices with cherry jam and remember that for years as a child, my breakfast was quite similar. Bea would hand me my plate of toast as I sat by the warm register on the floor (like the family pet dog), and when no one was looking I would hide the crust in the register. such a strange child I was...
Finally, on Friday, Larry's birthday, we decided to explore the face of Istanbul tourists see. Larry knew how to get to Taksim, a central bus location in Pera, the section of Istanbul across from the Old City. He suggested we get on a double decker bus so I could see the sights...But the sights were an endless parade of concrete high rise apartments interspersed with vacant lots filled with litter. Small shops selling an assortments of items, always clustered together (the shoe stores in clusters, the green grocers, the hardware stores, etc). And the trip seemed endless. Where was the beautiful city I had read about, where was the exotic, the special? From my vantage point I could have been in any mediterranean city or middle eastern one with more poverty than grandeur. And Taksim itself was confusing. For the first time in my many travels with Larry, he could not figure out how to find a bus to the Old City or even which street to head down so that we could possibly walk across the Galata bridge and find things on our own. No one seemed to speak English. He tried in vain to purchase an akbil(the pass which makes public transportation easier to use)...But it was his birthday, not a day to complain...
We ate a doner, chicken wrapped in a pita, wandered aimlessly around the streets adjacent to Taksim with its large statue of Ataturk, who else (his face is omnipresent; I'm almost surprised his portrait is not hanging above our bed...), discovering a small China town, steep streets lined with shops, but where was the long great shopping street I had read about, where were the mosques and museums?
Realizing we needed a better map, we decided to find the tourist office, which was supposed to be at the Hilton Hotel...We headed off in another direction where the name hotels could be spotted...ending up on a wooden walkway looking out on a park...and somewhere in the distance, across an inaccessible busy road was the Hilton..We proceeded down the path ( at least the views were lovely and I was warming up to the day's adventure) walking down into a park that lined 2 sides of a busy highway. Paths led down to a large stadium and beyond that to the waterfront. We were making progress! Along the way we stopped to explore the interior of the Ritz Carlton (oh, so posh, so worlds removed from our abode!). Actually, it was the intrepid Larry who wandered in ; I sat on a bench looking at beds of flowers and waited until he reappeared insisting I also see the lobby and the art gallery featuring kilim carpets that seemed in flight...spectacular views of the Bosporus and the Asian side in the lobby and the delight of freshly squeezed pomegranate juice offered to all the guests..
The adventure was becoming a pleasure, not a drudgery , as we continued walking to the Bosporus, passing the Dolmabahce Palace, where the sultans lived in the last decades of the Ottoman Empire, seemingly endlesss rows of mosques and fish restaurants, seaside parks filled with odd sculpture, the Istanbul Modern Art Museum ( in what appeared to be a converted warehouse), large cruise ships looming over the shoreline...We walked for seemingly miles, but we both were delighting in thd discoveries...Even the endless stray dogs (absolutely everywhere in Istanbul, and I've discovered in my reading a centuries old phenomenon western visitors have always commented on) were not a problem...We finally reached Kabatas where we could get a ferry to the Asian side and Larry could finally purchase the long sought akbil...We knew we had to get back to Yeditepe since larry's Russian friend, Renad, was meeting us for dinner, a birthday dinner. And as we passed the Old Town, the dome of Hagia Sophia looming over the scene in a misty postcard kind of view, I spoke wistfully of hoping that wasn't the closest we would ever get to the istanbul of countless travel books...But we seemed to know now that Taksim was not the way to reach the Old Town, that ferries, the source of travel across the Bosporus for centuries, would also be our means to reach the places we wanted to see.
Of course, the day continued with its frustrations. We could not find the bus we wanted, the #19, which has become our"friend" on our travels, and ended up on the #14ks. Never, never, take the #14ks to Yeditepe...An hour and 10 minutes of rush hour traffic..we never seemed to move, we were so crowded that we wondered if we would be able to get to the door if we ever reached the familiar looming gate to the University...And we were already late to meet Renad..and his family. A subsequent trip on the same ill-fated bus was also as long, as crowded, as frustrating...we've learned our lesson..Even if #19 is crowded at Kadikoy, our bus terminus, it is better to stand for a half hour than sit for over an hour...
But it was Larry's birthday; everything had to work out happily. Renad was also late. Larry could order his favorite meal of spaghetti bolonez and revel in the day's adventure. And now we knew how to get where we wanted to go!
Oh, the petulance...Now I have come to enjoy the long bus rides to Kadikoy, marking the familiar landmarks,the vacant lot where sheep are sometimes tied, the lighting fixture store, the endless string of barber shops(we amused ourselves one night counting the ones still open at 11pm), the cemetery behind the hospital, the walk along the highway we took the morning we were looking for the Metrobus stop, the women with heads covered with colorful scarves (still maybe 25% of the women we see)...And the concrete buildings no longer seem so anonymous;different colors mark them, different windows. the bus trips have become the adventure Larry promised that first day. and the rush of buses at Kadikoy, the stalls selling fish and chestnuts and semits (the sesame covered bagel-like pastries) seem part of a fascinating bazaar...the city is capturing my heart, too, and it's the city tourists do not see...The ferry crossings always enchant, especially if timed to coincide with sunset..Seeing the mosques and minarets of Fatih (the Old town) in a reddish purple haze will be a favorite lasting memory...and the approaching facade of the train station on the Asian side (so much more impressive than the terminus of the Orient Express on the European side)... and the odd sculpture near the ferry terminal in Kadikoy, and the islands off in the distance...and the waiters carrying trays of tea on the ferry...Oh, what a lovely way to get around! First impressions, as Jane Austen so aptly described in the same named novel which became Pride and Prejudice, are so often incomplete...
Yeditepe University
Sunset over the Bosphorus as seen from our table at the faculty club.
These are the many Yeditepe Univ busses that move people around this quite steep hilly campus. The walk up the hill, as you'll see later, is a challenge
This is the building where I work.
This is the faculty club,where we eat lunch and dinner every day during the week with first class waiter service. All of the staff know us well.
This is the building where I work and Barbara at the entrance. The large ominous buildings [white] below are the dormitories, the one in the distance where we live in an all-male dorm.
Sunset over the Bosphorus as seen from our table at the faculty club.
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