Here they are, saving the day.

Not to brag, but my parents are amazing. And they're back in New York for the week, a perfectly timed vacation. We had lunch at Cafe Orlin in the East Village and caught up about all of my Turkey (mis)adventures.

At one point, my parents told me that they had looked up the hotel where we stayed in Istanbul, and my mom was brought to tears from laughing so hard (see above) by how disgusting the hotel looked on their website. It's true, the place was kind of raunchy. I suspect that it may have been one of the many places in Istanbul that was a rent-by-the-hour hotel used by prostitutes and escorts until very recently. Judging by the noises I heard at night while staying at Hotel Devran, it may still be a rent-by-the-hour hotel.

It's all in the past now. Nothing but an anecdote.

Turkey wrap

I did some more wandering on my day alone in Istanbul.


Back to the rooftop garden for one final sweeping view of the city.


My favorite corner of Pera.


If I lived in Istanbul, this might be my preferred home.


Though I never tested out the menu, I love the sign posted outside of this restaurant.


Since I missed the opening, I visited Joe's installation, Data Sonification 1 (Stock Market), which is now up and running at the Pera Museum.


It really came together for him.


All alone in the hotel room in Istanbul, I watched hours of the only channel with shows in English.


By far, the best show on was Northern Exposure.


This is the one where Maggie turns thirty and gets appendicitis while she's alone in the wilderness. Naturally, Dr. Joel saves the day.


Even in Istanbul, I was able to derive comfort from my old friends of Cicely, Alaska.


On my way home, I flew through Bucharest with one of the strictest security teams I've experienced. Love you, Veronica, but I'm not such a fan of your airport.

I'm really happy to be back in New York. Ah, home.

Outside, looking in

Turkish people don't drink coffee.


This week felt like I was in a non-consentual detox program where I kept breaking off the rehab grounds in order to get my fix, which was never quite enough.


Occasionally they indulge in Turkish coffee, but for the most part, this is a tea drinking society with a little Nescafé thrown in here and there.


There are a few attempts at an American coffee shop, but the incredibly passive and enigmatic slogan, "A taste nearby" fits their approach to my addiction.


Today the Istanbul Museum of Modern Art came through with our first cup. Lesson: it is very hard to be a tourist without an adequate amount of caffeine.


Post-latte, Joe and I are ready to see some modern art.


Then we searched all over town for our second cup, which we found at Coffee Me before we tried to find the Book Market section of the Grand Bazaar. I should say that I am thrilled to be surrounded by an adamantly literary society. Everywhere we go, we find independent bookstores stocked from the floor to the ceiling with books that are not just New York Times Bestsellers. Pera, the part of town where we are staying is known for having the most independent bookstores in one neighborhood. Joe and I are never the only browsers in the shops. In fact, these bookstores seem to be thriving.

Other activities today:
Grand Bazaar souvenir shopping
Turkish Bathhouse


And a very touristy dinner for Joe's last meal before he flies home tomorrow morning.

Extras:




Not to be missed: the photography exhibit at the French Institute, about the national sport, Turkish oil wrestling, another seemingly sexual (and extremely homoerotic activity), which is hard to contextualize without access to insiders' perspectives. There are so many more questions I have about sexuality, gender, and identity from my trip to Turkey than were ever raised from my semester in Amsterdam. I wish we had spent part of that trip, studying in Turkey.


Joe is to corn as I am to bagel.


The beautiful poster of Turkey, which perpetually--and somehow appropriately-- hangs at a slant in our "hotel" room.

Sometimes I feel like a

A very touristy day in Istanbul

In the morning, we ran into a girl with a Housing Works bag, who currently lives in Turkey, but used to live in New York. She didn't seem as excited as I was to see her, but she still let me take her picture.








From there we visited Hagia Sophia, Topkapi Palace, and the Blue Mosque. The best part of the day was visiting the Harem at the Topkapi Palace, which was so intricately designed and will surely lose in translation whether I try to explain through words or images. I am still confused and surprised that such a private and conservative culture would be so publicly proud of their harem. It seems like such a huge cultural contradiction, but then they Turkish government must have realized that sex sells.

Another interesting part of the history is that the sultans would sleep with the enslaved women in the harem. These were women sold to Turkey from neighboring countries. When the women of the harem had children, some of their sons would be chosen to become princes. Eventually a prince would become the next sultan. In other words, there is a long line of sultans who are not "fully" Turkish. Each sultan descendant would be a little more removed from the Turkish bloodline. I haven't read much about this, but I think it's fascinating when juxtaposed with what seems to be a long tradition in Turkey of killing or kicking out groups of people from other heritages (whether it be religious, cultural, geographical, or racial).

Eff it, my Turkish friend, let's bowl.

Istanbul is on the Golden Horn, a fresh-water estuary. Until now, I haven't been very clear about how often we are surrounded by water.


Here is Joe, proving that indeed, there is water, water everywhere.


Pre-American coffee, I'm still half asleep.


I need about four or five Turkish coffees to get going.


Joe's first fresh figs were tasteless, but I think it was just a bad batch.


Under construction, a spire near the Grand Bazaar.


Here I am under what looks like an old synagogue from the Jewish stars displayed on the top of the building. According to our guidebook, which is arguably untrustworthy, there are about 24,000 Jewish people in Istanbul. This synagogue seems to have been turned into a lamb restaurant, which seems a bit un-halachic. Shout out to Sultan Beyazit II, who welcomed the Jews expelled by the Spanish Inquisition. Thanks, B II!


The University, where women in head scarves are not allowed to study. Sounds like secularism as a form of religious persecution, but I'm just an opinionated American tourist.


We are here.


At the end of the day, what better way to enjoy Turkish culture than to go bowling!


We bowled five games.


Bowling is an acceptable activity for women in head scarves.


Joe won all five.


But once I got the hang of it, I gave him a run for his money.


With a little help from the lucky green ball and a couple beers to lose my bowling inhibitions, I was rocking our lane.


Prostrating for the pins.


This is only a recap of three out of the five games. I don't remember the last time I had so much fun bowling.

I love the Turkish night life!