food and dead ducks...

first of all I am very appreciative of Turkish mothers. Especially those of my friends and roommates who come and cook for their daughter (or son) and friends. And then they stick around to clean our kitchen and dishes!? Also fathers of roommates who send gi-normous boxes of multiple kinds of borek for the entire house. I should/would have taken a picture of all the delicousness if i hadn't been overwhelmed by the supply of food for my breakfast, and which lasted almost a full week (for 6 girls mind you). It was a lot of food. If it ever happens again I will be sure to photodocument it just to prove it happens.

also, today, while checking up on my supposed mailing address...i found out that my 'street' or 'road' is called, in translation, something like 'butcher's meadow place.' this name might explain why a classmate of mine witnessed a woman carrying a dead duck down the road and disposing of the guts, etc. in the middle of the street. There are also a lot of cows and sheep, in addition to some meadows, down the road. it's good to know with all this abrupt, modern developing projects that some things will remain the same...

morning traffic in the meadows of the butchers

life changes...

in addition to the very large changes that may occur in one's life when you move abroad there are also many small changes that only you may notice. Some that i have noticed lately are:

- i now put yogurt on EVERYTHING, especially pasta. it is delicious.

- and for the first time in my life i have wanted, and thus went out and bought, a yellow article of clothing. never EVER in my life have i ever worn yellow, by choice. and its a strange, muddy yellow color too. i'm not sure if this change has any positive or negative conotations, but i do find it extremely curious. it's just a plain pullover, v-neck sweater by the way. and i did buy the same sweater in brown as well, just to offset the novelty of the yellow sweater. i didn't want to completely abandon my comfort zone of clothing choices.

this is my life...

first i wake up in my bed and in my tiny room...

then i can open up my window and look at my view...

then i walk down the hall past my living room...

then end up in the kitchen for breakfast...

and if i have time i can eat breakfast out on my balcony...

then i walk out of my apartment complex...

and wait on the corner for my minibus to school...

then i go to class...

the end.

for now.

Diary of a Foodie: Gourmet.com mmm, Turkish food!

Diary of a Foodie: Gourmet.com

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pictures...

a few more pictures from the summertime...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/11710788@N07/



photos from my current life are in the works...


p a t i e n c e i s a v i r t u e

Affirmation...

it's nice to find reasons to support doing what you want to do. I found the following on the back of an out of date tourist map of turkey a few weeks ago:

CULTURAL HERITAGE IS FRAGILE

The world's cultural heritage is like a big puzzle. Each monument, each object, is an irreplaceable part of the overall Picture which gives us insight into our origins, our development and our lives today. It helps us to understand and appreciate other cultures. Each discovery, each new interpretation adds to the puzzle and makes the picture clearer. We must ensure the protection of every single piece today, so that future generations may have the opportunities to enjoy the puzzle.

Many people are not aware that our cultural heritage is under stress from natural disasters such as earthquakes and floods, and from slower acting processes such as pollution and human actions. Even the most innocent gestures such as collecting ancient pieces of pottery or mosaics as souvenirs have a destructive impact if repeated by thousands. Touching an object of stone, metal or textile leaves traces of grease, acid or sweat on its surface. Climbing a monument wears down the structure underneath and can dismantle it. Writing or engraving names inflicts permanent damage. Strolling around narrow crowded places with bulky bags or backpacks might knock over an object or scratch a mural painting and ruin it. There are countless ways in which one can unknowingly contribute to the destruction of cultural heritage.

In 2020 there will be 1.6 billion visitors per year worldwide. Let us raise awareness of this issue so that we may join together to protect and enjoy the diversity and richness of our cultural heritage.

-International Organization for Conservation of Cultural Heritage (ICCROM)

...part 3...

...Wednesday morning we jumped on another minibus, though this time from the bus station, not from under the bridge, and it was a bit bigger and newer. The bus took a similar scenic route farther South to the ferry out to Bozcaada, a small island off the coast in the Aegean. We made the 11.00am ferry



to arrive on the island at about 11.30am. Having done no research, all we knew about this island is that there were beaches and wineries and a big castle, but unfortunately we had no details about how to actually get to any of these places. The town had wine stores but few people knew enough English to get us past the stores and to a winery or vineyard, and that included the man sitting at the tourist booth who handed us our map of the island. However, we prevailed and found a bus to the beach we had heard of: Ayasma. And the beach was beautiful, as well as crowded and the water was extremely calm yet completely frigid, some may say refreshing.



When we finally had enough of the hot sun and the cold we decided it was late enough in the day to go try and find some wine to drink. After trekking around to the big, fancy winestores we finally walked into a smaller, adorable wine shop where a real Turkish man immediately began pouring us glasses of their wine to test. And there was an order to the madness, we ended up tasting every bottle...from the white wine to the sherry. Çok güzel! (i.e. delicious!)

Granted these were just test size sips of the wine, but by the end of our testing we were carrying on quite a conversation with the Turkish man and putting to good use his little English, our little Turkish, and our very helpful Türkçe/English dictionary. Long story short, by the time we finally left the shop we had met the vineyard owner (a very jolly, older man), bought a bunch of wine, and had been convinced to come back the next day and promised the arrangement of a hotel room so that we might stay friday night on the island. And seeing as our only set plan was to spend Thurs. night back in Çanakkale and then get back to İstanbul by Sunday...we had Friday and Saturday still at our disposal...and we hadn't seen everything we wanted to on Bozcaada yet...it was an offer that was hard to refuse...

At 8pm we got back on the last ferry and then took the bus back to Çanakkale and our hostel. Friday morning we did indeed get back on the bus, this time with all of our luggage, and made it back to Bozcaada by noon. Met by our trusty and pleasantly unexpected tourguide...we left our luggage at the hotel and headed off to the fortress. Luckily our tourguide spoke enough English and was proud of the history of his hometown so that he gave us an excellent tour of the fortress and explained many of the different buildings.




Next it was off to the 'fabrika' or the factories where they actually produce the wine:



Then, finally, it was back to the beach for more sun. That night we had some delicious mezes, wine and fish by the water before we were exhausted and headed off to bed. The next morning, on Saturday, still with no set plans, we wandered about the town a bit and had some lunch. By the way, lemonade in Turkey often has mint in it which is delicious! and often there is so much mint your lemonade will be green...

After which we decided we might as well take advantage of our vacation time and headed back to the beach, though this time we went to a different one. Sulubahce was not at all crowded which made up for the slightly less quality of beach and the water was still just as 'refreshing.'

Finally we said goodbye to our new friends, grabbed some dinner, and got on the last ferry.

From there we were headed back to Çanakkale and then on a 1am bus back to İstanbul. We made it to Cafe Nero in Bebek around 8am...exhausted, still sandy, content with life, and much more tan than we were on Monday.

...part 2...

...after Troy we headed back to Çanakkale for the evening and wandered around the older neighborhoods:

by the old military fortress:

and then had dinner by the water:

and then, the next day...

finally a real vacation...part 1...

Last Tuesday night Paistey and I headed off on a night bus to Canakkale down on the Asian side and the coast of the Aegean, at the entrance to the Dardanelles. Wednesday, early, early morning we arrived and then checked into our hostel and took a nap. After much deliberation we decided to brave Troy on our own, without the help of a 60lira tourguide and tourbus. It worked out well enough, we found the minibuses underneath the bridge down the road, grab some breakfast, and took a scenic drive down to Troy.

Troy was really interesting and I'm glad I've finally seen it. Not sure what I can really say about it...it's big, there are a lot of old rocks. Some buildings are able to be deciphered thanks to the many descriptive signs all over the site. Maybe one day I will be able to be able to actually understand a place like this all on my own? That would be cool. Oh and of course Troy would be nothing without a large wooden horse, right??!

and then...