January 16 to 31 - more Ankara explorations

For more pictures of Ankara, please see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/

Darn. Our trip to Cappadocia Jan 30/31 was canceled. Seems Larry and I were the only intrepid souls ready to travel to that wonderland in the winter. We had been to Cappadocia twice many years ago, but there were a lot of places there that we never got to see on our previous visits. Besides, we were advised that it is particularly beautiful, and not as crowded, in the winter. But the weather finally turned to winter in central Anatolia and nobody else wanted to go. In December, when Anna was visiting, we also tried to sign up for the same tour (different dates), but it, too, was cancelled. All that is available these days of organized tours by our favorite travel company, Tempo Tur, are ski trips, because there is plenty of snow around—except in Ankara. Alas, we don’t ski. We can, of course, visit Cappadocia on our own. But, since the area is mostly an outdoor museum, we don’t relish wandering around on our own in the cold, even if getting lost is often part of the fun of traveling. We’ll wait for the next guided tour, or for warmer weather—or both.

For nearly all of this winter so far, the temperature has hovered in the mid 40s. The sun seldom, although occasionally, makes an appearance. It is gloomy and cool. But, I keep reading about the horrible New England weather this winter and thank heavens for small favors. The weather has enabled us to make frequent visits to the Anittepe outdoor gym. A few days ago, though, the temperatures dipped into the low 20s, with single digits at night, thereby bringing a halt to our physical fitness program (and cancelling that Cappadocia trip). After the freeze, we also had some real snow—not a blizzard by any means, but a good three to five inches in Ankara. As in any city, snow removal was spotty and, eventually, it all turned to mush. But it reminded us that people meant it when they said, yes, Ankara has a real winter. This winter just turned out to be exceptionally mild. They say Turkish hospitality is second to none; even the weather has accommodated us for most of the winter.

With the change in the weather, and the cancellation of our planned trip this week, we decided to explore some more of what Ankara has to offer. One evening, our friend, Meldan, and her brother, Ercan, invited us to join them and a group of friends to a symphony concert at Bilkent University. When we lived there in the 1990s, we attended concerts in that beautiful hall on several occasions, once sitting a few rows behind, of all people, Mikhael Gorbachev. We recognized him at the time by the large birthmark on his head, as well as the armed guards everywhere.

The concert hall and foyer are as beautiful as ever—marble floors, light wood, polished brass railings, sparkling chandeliers. No armed guards this time, although, as with most cultural places in Ankara, we still had to go through security screens.

Ercan drove us there a bit early, so we went to the Mozart café for a bite to eat. I had forgotten about this café, but immediately recognized the long curved windows when I walked in. This brought back memories for both Larry and me of coming here with Anna when she was little and buying a very expensive cupcake! While eating our not so expensive, but awful, kebabs (this café has gone quasi American, but even in the U.S., we don’t DEEP-FRY our kebabs. Yuk!), we were approached by a woman and her son with whom we had hiked on our rainy trip to Yedigoller National Park. We see them now and then on the streets of Bahcelievler, as they too live in our neighborhood. Guzide (the mother) mentioned that the oboeist in tonight’s concert is her cousin. Little did we know that he would solo an entire three-movement concerto. I had never heard an oboe soloist before, at least not an entire solo piece. He was terrific, playing "Obua Koncertosu No. 1, Re minor." (Anyone know what "Re" is?) The rest of the program was the full Bilkent symphony’s rendition of selections from Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, and the Nutcracker Suite. They were terrific. Except, whenever the music got loud, it got muddy. I wondered whether this was an acoustics problem in the hall, or a problem of conducting.

Scanning the program, which was in Turkish, we discovered that these concerts, which are very inexpensive, about $8 each, occur every weekend during the academic year! Someone also translated for us a paragraph about a free service bus that takes people from downtown Ankara and from our neighborhood (!) to and from the concerts each week. So, the next week, I sought out a Biletex kiosk in a downtown Ankara bookstore, where a clerk helped me select tickets for the next concert (the instructions were in Turkish). Then Larry and I tried to figure out where to catch this free "concert bus." Anna and I had tried unsuccessfully to find other free Bilkent buses last month. This time, we were determined to figure out where to find the stop; it had moved from its normal location due to construction in front of the National Library, where most buses still stop. Seeking information on the Internet about Bilkent bus routes, I found a cute little animated map, which showed a bus travelling through the city, and stopping at specific places. This gave us an idea of where to go (behind the library, not in front of it). In addition, an online question form on Bilkent’s web site elicited an email giving us an exact address.

Success! We found the bus stop, boarded along with a dozen other music lovers, and got dropped off at the main entrance to the concert hall. Then, at the end of the concert, the bus brought us back to our neighborhood, where we walked the remaining fifteen minutes home. In a city with four million people, we feel very fortunate to have picked one of only three neighborhoods where the "concert bus" picks people up and drops them off.

The second concert featured works by Dvorak (Serenad, Re minor, Op. 44 and Senfoni No. 6 Re major, Op. 60), and a flute concert by C. Nielsen, featuring the famous flutist, Emmanuel Pahud, all conducted by Klaus Weise. The loud bits weren’t muddy at all this time. I still wonder what the problem was last week.

With concerts held every Friday, and free bus transportation, we now know what we’ll be doing nearly every weekend when there are no trips planned. Also, at the concert, a Bilkent acquaintance brought us a copy of the program for the Presidential Symphony Orchestra’s weekly (!) programs at the symphony hall in downtown Ankara—a fifteen minute subway ride every Thursday. I’m in classical music heaven here in Ankara. Our acquaintance, by the way, said that this is one of the oldest orchestras in the world; the first conductor was a close relative of Donatelli. Or did he say Donazetti; I’ll have to look that up.

Besides concerts, our other Ankara explorations this week included visits to some of the museums in this, the nation’s capital city. In search of the Ethnographic Museum, which we never found, on one of the days when it was too cold to go to the gym, we stumbled instead on the first two parliamentary buildings in the Turkish republic. Built during the first few years of the Republic in the 1920s, each served successively as the central administrative and legislative centers of the new country. Architecturally they are distinct and described appropriately as "early Republic," and are somewhat reminiscent of Ottoman design. Both serve now as museums: The First Turkish Grand National Assembly (The War of Independence Museum), and The Second Turkish Grand National Assembly (The Museum of the Republic). The displays are well done but, as usual, my favorite part was the buildings themselves.

To round out the cultural stuff we’ve been doing in lieu of traveling, we attended a lecture at the American Research Institute of Turkey: "The Institute of Nautical Archaeology in Turkey and Cyprus: 36 years of history" by Dr Matthew Harpster (Department of Archaeology and Art History, Eastern Mediterranean University). He was refreshingly funny, as well as informative.

The rest of the time since our trip to Istanbul, was filled with future travel plans, including an upcoming trip to the southwest to visit nomad carpet weavers and see a camel wrestling competition, with our rug friend, Kadir Bey. Finally, another nice dinner at the Nelsons, where we met a new Fulbrighter as well as a former one, the latter visiting the area for a while. I plan to arrange a visit with the women of this group to the hamam in Old Ankara, once my rib is healed enough to withstand the vigorous washing by the legendary hamam attendants. Should be fun—Insallah.
　

Istanbul, Jan. 12 - 15, 2010

For photographs, see: http://www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com/ under "Istanbul."

With Anna’s three week visit with us coming to an end, we booked a visit to Istanbul to see the sights and to get her to the airport. In that way, she didn’t have to deal with changing planes and airlines (and terminals) in Istanbul—a somewhat lengthy, tricky process.

Since we found no reference to our former hotel, called the Park Hotel, where we had stayed several times in the past, either on the Internet or in our guide books, we decided to take the advice of Kadir Bey, our rug dealer friend, and stay at the Valide Sultan hotel. “Valide Sultan” means “Sultan’s mother.” This hotel is located in the Sultanamet district, the prime tourist area in Istanbul, and located between the walls of Topkapi Palace, and the boundary of the extensive archaeological dig unearthing part of a massive Byzantine palace. Behind the hotel are more boutique hotels, pensions, and pretty shops and cafes. It is a mere five minute walk to both the Aya Sofya and Topkapi Palace. The hotel is currently under renovation, but no work interfered with our quiet, comfortable stay. The room was big enough for the three of us, somewhat elegant, and very comfortable. Only the scaffolding covering the entire building made it look a bit peculiar. We have only two complaints about this otherwise very nice hotel: 1. It is expensive, although not outlandishly so during this off season, and 2. The staff are artificially friendly and more concerned with selling us rugs and/or tours than with making us feel comfortable. In fact, their friendliness was intrusive. But, all in all, we liked this hotel.

HOWEVER, on one of our evening walks, we found the Park Hotel, after all! Right across the street from the Four Seasons Hotel (formerly the famous prison in Midnight Express), the Park Hotel, like most of the neighborhood, has been upgraded. The Four Seasons rates being $400 to $4,000 (!) per night, the new clientele, I guess, affected an upgrade of the entire neighborhood. Even the formerly simple rug shop next to the Park Hotel is now swanky. So, we went into the Park to see if any changes have been made. When we stayed there many years ago, it was dirt cheap, which was warranted by the tiny, cold, wall-stained rooms, and shared hallway bathrooms. We had liked it then not only because of the price (although we didn’t particularly like the rooms) but because we genuinely liked the people running the hotel, as well as the other guests. There was a warm, cheerful feeling about the Park. Now, the rooms have been expanded. Two to three of the little rooms have been combined; each room has its own clean, marble bathroom (bigger than the one in our more expensive Valide Sultan room), and the heating system seems to work now. More importantly, there is still a cozy feel to the lobby, and the staff person there was very nice, and very helpful, without trying to sell us anything else. The price is quite a bit higher than it used to be, but still far less than the Valide Sultan. So, next visit to Istanbul, it will be our nostalgic Park Hotel. Yay!

After arriving at the hotel just after sunset, we scouted out the neighborhood and found a nice “buffet-style” café, our favorite kind of restaurant, called the Can Cafe. These are generally cheap and offer a large number of dishes to satisfy both vegetarians and meat and fish eaters. It was so good, we returned there several more times for both lunch and dinner over the next several days. Next door to Can Café (pronounced Jon café), we stopped at the Pudding Shop, Lale Restaurant, for some World Famous rice pudding and Larry’s favorite, asure, the latter made from a variety of fruits, grains and nuts. After locating all the main sights, closed for the evening, we returned to the hotel, where the concierge talked us into a half-day boat tour the next morning. We were game, despite the high price, as we had hoped to take this tour anyway, but didn’t know how to arrange it on our own. We would have figured it out, but these folks made it easy for us; the bus actually picked us up at the hotel in the morning.

Bosphorus Tour

At 8:30 we began our tour with about fifteen others in two buses. Our bus’s tour guide spoke first in English, then Spanish, another guide spoke German. I’m not sure about the other bus. I do know, though, that we were sorted by language when bus seats were assigned.

First we drove past the city’s land walls, constructed by Constantine to keep out invaders. The sea walls were meant to do the same. At one point, our guide pointed out the Bishopric of the Greek Orthodox Patriarch and Church of St. George, which is located just inside the walls. Alas, I never saw it. I looked for it where she told us to, but we whizzed by too quickly. All I saw were some ramshackle dwellings. A Google search reads that it is a “humble building.” Invisible, too, I would say.

Our first actual stop was at the Egyptian Spice Bazaar, where we had 35 minutes to sample some fresh Turkish Delight and wander among the beautifully displayed spices, candies, nuts, and other culinary treats. We didn’t buy anything because we didn’t want to carry stuff around with us on the boat. Instead, we visited the beautiful nearby “New Mosque.” “New” is relative, of course; the building was constructed in the 16th century, but was the last of the Sultanic mosques built in Istanbul; hence, the “new” designation. The tiles inside were gorgeous—probably Iznic tiles, the most prized tiles of the time.

Next, we headed to the Golden Horn, the wide river, shaped like a horn, that separates the European side of Istanbul into two --the “Old City” where our hotel is located -- and the “New City.” Today, the river was not so “golden.” It was gray, reflecting the clouds and the cold rain of the day. After our guide pointed out the two bridges connecting the Old and New cities, we headed toward the Bosphorus, the strait of water dividing Istanbul into the “European” and the “Asian” sides—the city being the only one in the world straddling two continents. The Bosphorus connects the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea north of the city.

From the boat we viewed the Dolmabache (“stuffed gardens”) Palace, the 19th century palace of the last of the Sultans, built to emulate European tastes. The later sultans apparently felt that the centuries old Topkapi Palace, home and administrative center of previous sultans, was too primitive for their European aspirations.

As the windows steamed up on our boat, where we took refuge inside from the cold rain, we viewed recent residences, mostly cement block apartment buildings, spilling down from the hills of Istanbul on the European side, to the waters of the Bosphorus. We were getting a little bored, wondering why this boat trip was so highly recommended. Eventually, though, we reached the Rumeli Fortress, considered by some to be the most beautifully designed military building in the world. It certainly was impressive. Built by Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II between 1451 and 1452, it served as a base for the Ottoman conquest of Byzantine Constantinople the next year, 1453. In order to get a few good photographs, I had to join the other few intrepid picture takers on the deck of the boat in the rain. It was worth it.

After viewing the fortress from the boat (no opportunity to disembark and walk along the ramparts—darn!), we crossed the Bosphorus to return, this time hugging the Asian shore. On this side, we were able to view the legendary “wooden houses” built in the Ottoman style and used by the wealthy during the summer months. I must admit I was disappointed in those we saw. I thought I had at one time seen pictures of many many more such houses, clustered closer together, and forming a much more interesting collection of old Ottoman houses. Those we saw were simply large and pretentious. Maybe I’m thinking of the Venice neighborhood in Los Angeles (without the Ottoman architecture, though).

Returning to shore, we concluded that the boat trip was a big, expensive, disappointment. Nonetheless, we do not regret having taken it.

Topkapi Palace

Back at the hotel, we changed into dry socks, then headed out for lunch and a tour of Topkapi Palace. This was the highlight of our day. The palace, a sprawling collection of Ottoman buildings and courtyards, is located at the tip of the peninsula on the western side of the European section of the city. We had visited here before, but hadn’t given ourselves enough time to see everything. And, of coure, Anna was only five then and wanted to see it with a new set of eyes.

Alas, my favorite part of the complex was closed—the spectacular Ottoman kitchens, with their huge copper pans, ovens, and worktables, as well as enormous collection of Chinese porcelain. Someone had told us that the kitchen had housed 1,500 chefs and fed as many as 200,000 people at a time. I haven’t checked out these numbers; they sound like hyperbole to me. But those kitchens do take up a huge part of the palace. The entire palace is under renovation one section at a time; this time the kitchens are closed until their renovations are completed.

Instead, we visited the “treasury” rooms, which exhibited the decadent collection of jewels, ceremonial clothing, thrones, and various expensive gifts presented to the various sultans--such as the famous dagger featured in the movie "Topkapi." Then, a visit to the gardens and some ceremonial rooms, including the Sultans' imperial councial room and audience chamber. Finally, a walk through the Harem, a complex maze of courtyards, tiled sitting rooms and so on. This section, of which we saw only a fraction of its six stories and 300+ rooms, seemed oddly cold and grim to us, despite the elaborate decorations. Maybe all those stories of seraglio bloody intrigues worked to taint our picture of this complex. Or, maybe it was the rain and cold outside.

Despite all the gilded and bejewelled artifacts throughout the palace, it was the buildings and their rooms, as well as the grounds, that were the most interesting part of Topkapi. (The view of the Sea of Marmara and the Golden Horn wasn’t so bad either). Each interior ceiling was vaulted and elaborately painted or tiled. Some soared as tall as maybe 50 to 75 feet high. (No wonder it felt cold in there). The floors were tiled stone or marble, granite or travertine. The Sultan’s mother (Valide Sultan) had her own separate Turkish baths, with the calderium, tepidarium and frigidarium as well as a gilded gate within. One intersting note about the harem is that the tiles within were generally from Kutahya, rather than from Iznik. The latter adorn the majority of the significant buildings in Istanbul. But Kutahya tiles are my personal favorite.

As we were leaving, we thought we would quickly pop in to see a temporary exhibit titled: “Iran, 10,000 Years of Civilization.” Wow, what a happy accident; we didn’t know this was here until we saw the sign. This large exhibit featured artifacts from early Iranian civilizations to approximately the 19th century. My favorites were the gorgeous miniature paintings decorating earlier calligraphic codices—including beautifully decorated copies of the Koran, some encased in elaborately tooled and/or jewelled leather bindings. Additionally, the embroidered and woven fabrics, some from the 15th century, were pristine and beautifully displayed. Throughout the exhibit, the mounted explanatory panels – in both Turkish and English – were well written and gave just enough information about the history and arts of successive civilizations in ancient Persia, now Iran.

The Grand Bazaar

Because we hadn’t punished our feet enough this day, we decided to visit the Grand (Covered) Bazaar, with its 4,400 shops, today rather than the next day, as originally planned. Anna had one more gift she wanted to buy for a friend. What were the chances of our running into someone who works at our hotel? Pretty good, it turns out. The previous night, he had explained to us that he worked in a rug shop in the Bazaar (I think everybody does), owned by the hotel’s owners. He recognized us as we walked by. Naturally, we felt obligated to visit his shop and have tea while he showed us many of his rugs. Alas, we were rugged out from our three visits to Kakir Bey’s shop in Ankara, and had no intention of buying any more—much to our host’s disappointment. I was glad, though, for the warming tea and a chance to get off my feet. Plus, I love seeing new types of rugs; those he showed us were mostly Kurdish, a type we hadn’t seen before.

We continued our search for a copper item for Anna’s friend. We were at a loss (again) as to why there were so few copper shops; Turkey is supposedly famous for copper ware. Nonetheless, Anna stopped to look at a small copper peppermill. A salesman gave her a price of 10 TL (around $6.50). Anna hesitated, not because of the price, but because she wasn’t sure she wanted to buy it. He then lowered the price to 8 TL. But she still wasn’t sure, so we walked way. Meanwhile, Larry’s body language told us that he’d had quite enough of the Grand Bazaar and the vendors’ aggressive sales tactics. So Anna decided to go back for the peppermill. But we couldn’t find the original salesman. The new one gave her a price of 12 TL. We told him what the other had said, so he lowered it to 10. He seemed quite irritated when we repeated the 8 lira price. He consulted in a loud voice, seemingly quite angry, with several other vendors , but finally agreed to the 8 TL price. We survived the bargaining game, even though we hadn’t actually intended to bargain.

Aya Sofya

Our second full day of sight-seeing was colder, but generally dryer, with only occasional drizzles. Our first stop was the Aya Sofya, the former 6th century church turned mosque in the 15th century, and later a museum by order of Ataturk in the early 20th century. As always, the huge building renovations continue. This time, the paintings in the main dome were under repair. This means that an enormous block of scaffolding smack in the center of the building diminished the awe-inspiring scale of the huge open space. But that was just bad luck; the restoration work is important. At least this time we were able to see the section that was hidden by scaffolding fifteen years ago. We’ll have to return in another fifteen years to see the current improvements. [March update: we've been told that the scaffolding is down and the main dome is now visible].

One of the highlights of the Aya Sofya is the remaining mosaics from the time of its use as a Christian church. Although most of the mosaics are long gone, those remaining are truly spectacular. On the first balcony, where most of the mosaics are to be found, we first encountered an exhibition of very large photographs of the museum, including large close-ups of some of the better known mosaics. Since we hadn’t yet found the originals, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to photograph them, I photographed the photos. Once I found the originals and found that non-flash photography was okay, I still decided to keep the photos of photos; they were closer views than I was able to take, and the photographer obviously had a better camera (and more skill) than I have.

Basilica Cistern

Our next stop was to be a visit to the Blue Mosque, or Sultanahmet Camii. But we arrived just before noon prayer services and were unable to get in. So instead we visited the Basilica Cistern, an enormous underground cistern from Roman times held together by 336 huge columns. Two of the columns sit on top of marble sculpted heads of Medusa, she of the serpentine hair. One of the heads is upside down while the other sits sideways. There is no explanation that I can find as to why the heads are not upright. Between columns, and eerily illuminated by small reddish/orange lights, were enormous carp and smaller goldfish swimming over offerings of coins on the cistern’s floor. We don’t understand what those fish have to eat.

Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii)

After our standard lunch of mercemek corbasi (red lentil soup) and bread, we tried the Blue Mosque again. The "blue" designation is due, not to the exterior, which is uniformly gray, but to the extensive interior Iznik tiles, which are predominantly blue. Alas, we could not view most of them closely, as this is a working mosque, unlike Aya Sofya, which is a national museum. As such, visitors are confined to a smallish area in the back of the mosque, to leave sufficient room for worshipers. We also had to enter by a side door where tourists were directed; only worshipers could enter the main door. This makes sense during tourist season (i.e., warm weather), but, since we were the only "tourists" in sight, and there were very few people at the front door, we were a little put out. But it was still good to see this gorgeous building.

The gardens and park between Aya Sofya and the Blue Mosque remind me of the Mall in Washington, D.C., in that the view of both huge edifices from the park is spectacular. The mosque was designed by the architect Aga, student of the more famous Sinan, and was constructed on part of the site of the Byzantine palace, some of which is currently being excavated near Aya Sofya, and our hotel. One of its more unique aspects is the number of minarets surrounding the main building: six. This number was unheard of at the time, but was consistent with the Sultan’s (Ahmed) desire to rival Emperor Justinian’s Aya Sofya. Wikipedia’s page on the mosque is nicely done, and can be found at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sultan_Ahmed_Mosque

Istanbul Archaeology Museums

With most of the afternoon remaining, and the temperature dropping, and the wind picking up, we abandoned the idea of more architectural visits. We had hoped to visit Kucuk Aya Sofya (Little Aya Sofya), designed after the original, but on a smaller scale. Instead, we opted for a warm museum—the Istanbul Archeology Museum. It is also an impressive building, or three buildings, actually, with the main museum sharing a courtyard with two others; i.e., the Museum of Islamic Art (Tile Kiosk) and the Museum of the Ancient Orient. They are located within the Topkapi Palace grounds and are part of the Palace complex.

We had time only for the main museum—or a part of it; it’s huge. After passing the imposing statue of the Roman god Bes facing visitors as they entered (my camera failed me; I have no image of Bes, alas!), we first viewed a temporary exhibit of ongoing Istanbul excavations. One is the recent find of 24 shipwrecks and other archaeological treasures found during current construction of a transportation tunnel in the harbor between European and Asian Istanbul. The excavation is an excellent collaboration between antiquities officials and municipal construction leaders. This makes for slow progress of construction of the new transportation tunnel, but few people are complaining (as far as I know). The find is one of the most important recent archaeological finds in the region.

Next was a visit to the elaborately carved sarcophagi found mostly in Sidon, an ancient city of Lebanon, and brought to the palace centuries ago. The main museum building was actually built to house principally these sarcophagi, the collection of which includes the famous "Alexander Sarcophagus." Although this sarcophagus is not the actual burial container of Alexander (I think Zahi Hawass in Egypt is still looking for that one), the carvings show some of the exploits of Alexander in an impressive display of deep relief sculptures.

After viewing dozens of equally elaborate sarcophagi, and a gallery full of imposing, impressive Roman statues from throughout the region (e.g., Ephesus, Bolu, Gaza, etc.), our feet and legs were mighty tired. The floors of this beautiful building are nearly all huge blocks of smooth marble, but there were no places to sit. Ouch!

To rest our weary legs, and warm up a bit as well, we left the museum and stopped in a pretty tea and pastry shop to order a few cups of tea (we each had two) and share two small plates of baklava. Our good moods from such a successful day was sorely tested when our bill came to the same price as we were accustomed to paying for dinner for the three of us. So, instead of going to a somewhat fancier restaurant that night, as planned, we headed back to our Pudding Shop, this time for both dinner and dessert.

The "World Famous" Pudding Shop, Lale Restaurant

By this, our third night here, the waiters recognized us and treated us really well, serving us extra "sides" that we weren’t expecting--on the house. While waiting (briefly) for our dishes, I read some of the newspaper articles posted on the walls, such as one highlighting Bill Clinton’s visit here. Another longer article highlighted some of the history of the shop. It turns out that this shop was also featured in the movie, "Midnight Express," representing the location of the drug deal that landed the protagonist of the movie in the infamous Turkish prison (now the expensive Four Seasons Hotel). Although the drug deal was fiction, the shop did serve as a focal point in the 1960s for hippie-type characters. And, although the owner, who helped various young, lost souls, forbade drug use or dealing in his shop, a lot of drugs were, I guess, consumed and/or sold by the "regulars," elsewhere in the neighborhood. Today, the Pudding Shop has a new owner (the son?) and is more of a family place. But the "world famous" claim seems to be real, at least in Hollywood terms.

Istiklal Caddesi (Istiklal Road)

Our final day in Istanbul was our departure day. First we brought Anna to the Ataturk airport to see her off (sniff!). Then we worked our way to Taksim Square in search of a service bus to take us to the Varan (our bus company) headquarters on the Asian side. After finding a Varan office, with many false starts, of course, we had time to kill before the bus arrived, so we wandered Istiklal Caddesi, along with thousands of others on a weekday, around mid-day. A pedestrian mall, the street used to figure prominently with the Orient Express crowd. The famed train used to ride down this street; now a tram has replaced it. Hundreds of shops, meyhanes (bars), and restaurants, along with famous buildings in the city’s history, line this very busy street. We were too tired to buy anything, but are glad to have experienced, if briefly, yet another of Istanbul’s many notable sites.

We missed by one day some elaborate celebrations opening a year of special cultural activities. The EU apparently named Istanbul and two other cities the 2010 Cultural City of Europe. We are not unhappy to have missed the next day's celebrations, as it apparently snowed all day. Nonetheless, it was quite an honor. We plan on returning yet again to this incredible city, perhaps catching some of the year's additional special cultural events. Even though we have now been there four times, we discover something new each time, or view previously visited places with a new sense of wonder. Maybe someday, we’ll even experience Istanbul during warm, sunny weather, something that has so far eluded us.

NOTE: One week later, we are watching news reports of a nasty snow/ice storm that seems to have hit everywhere in Turkey except our neighborhood. Istanbul is a mess today (Sun., Jan. 24); the Black Sea area is a disaster; parts of Ankara received about three or four inches of snow. But Larry and I were at the outdoor gym, exercising in the sun. Very odd.

January 2 to 10

For photos, see: http://anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com "January 2 to 10."


Once Anna’s cold cleared up, and my sidewalk tumble became a memory, we were ready to do some traveling. Alas, one available tour was to Pamukkale and Aphrodias, where we had already been. The other possibility, a trip to Cappadocia, was canceled. We thought about heading there (to Cappadocia) on our own, but other plans, such as visits to shadow some doctors, and dinners with various people, were in the works. Besides, being mid-winter, a self-tour could be risky. So, instead, Anna and I explored more of Ankara while Larry continued teaching. And the three of us continued to socialize and explore even more of Old Ankara.

First was a walk Anna and I took to Anitkabir, the mausoleum of Ataturk, the founder of the Turkish Republic. Larry and I had been there in late October during the annual celebration of the founding of the Republic. Where there were many thousands of people in the main courtyard on that October day, on this later visit, there were Anna and me, two other people, and a handful of guards. That’s it. Because there were so few people around, we were able to pay tribute at Ataturk's sarcophagus, sitting atop the actual tomb. The actual tomb looks beautiful in photographs, but we never figured out how to get into the lower tomb area. Then we visited the museum portion of the complex, where there is a new section I’d never seen. In this historical area, in addition to many more artifacts and portraits, there are two long – about 100 to 150 feet – painted murals depicting two famous battles. The paintings of the siege at Gallipoli during World War I, as well as one of the key battles during the War of Independence in the early 1920s were breathtaking, if depressing. In front of the amazingly effective artwork were artifacts from the wars, incorporated into the background painting, creating a 3-D effect to the entire display. To complete the picture, we heard the sounds of battle, which were a little unnerving. The entire experience was very moving, and very disturbing.

Next on our agenda was a dinner with Meldan and her brother Ercan. Ercan, an officer in the Central Bank of Turkey (Merkez Bankasi) took us to the bank’s restaurant in Cankaya, one of the swankier sections of Ankara. He, like me, has a vivid memory of our being there fifteen years ago. At that time, there was live music, in English, mostly 1960s popular songs. Larry asked me to dance to one of the songs, which startled me at the time; Larry is normally not an eager dancer. What stayed in Ercan’s and my memory most was the fact that nobody else was dancing; this is not the type of place where people normally dance. But there we were—Larry and me—dancing away, to a waltz, no less—oblivious to the stares (and smiles) of everyone in the restaurant. Larry and Meldan have no memory of this. I am very glad Ercan remembers, as I was beginning to question my memory—again.

Next day, we headed back to the rug shop, Best Koleksiyon, to have lunch yet again with Kadir Bey and Neslihan Hamin. (Note: “Bey” is a form of respect for a man, “Hanim” for a woman). We were joined by a family from Kansas who were here to form some sort of educational partnership with educators in Turkey. After lunch, Kadir Bey took us to the Kocatepe Mosque, the huge new white mosque in the middle of Ankara which I had always wanted to visit. I finally saw the beautiful inside of this impressive structure, said to be the largest mosque—at least in terms of the number of people it can hold at once, 24,000—in all of the Islamic world. That number includes worshippers inside the mosque as well as in the adjoining courtyards.

The highlight of the day, though, was a visit to Kadir Bey’s boyhood neighborhood. This is the part of Old Ankara called Hacettepe. The university was named after this neighborhood because the main campus is located here. (Larry teaches in an outlying campus--Beytepe). Kadir Bey’s boyhood home was razed, along with hundreds of other Ottoman era houses, to make room for the construction of the university’s medical school. Local officials, however, recognizing the significance of the remaining seven hundred year old Ottoman houses, arranged for their renovation and have created a beautiful neighborhood next to the university. In addition to renovating these gorgeous houses, the planners repaved the streets with cobblestones, and planned parks and museums to supplement the houses, which are inhabited, recreating a once vibrant neighborhood.

Walking around with Kadir Bey was a delight, as he pointed out the hospital where he was born, the schools he attended and, to my astonishment, the hamam (Turkish Bath), where I had once bathed (15 years ago) and assumed I would never find again. Someone had led me there at the time without me knowing where we actually were. Kadir Bey also ran into some old school chums, one of whom treated us to soft drinks and kofte, a Turkish meatball. We politely declined the meatballs, but they smelled awfully good; the other family with us ate them instead.

The following weekend, Larry had lots of student papers to correct, so Anna and I went off on our own. First we visited Bilkent University where she had gone to kindergarten. I’d not yet figured out how to get there by bus, but I know that there is a student service bus leaving from our neighborhood, so we waited for a long time for that bus. Alas, it never came because, as we figured out later, Bilkent follows the American academic schedule and the students are on winter break! (Hacettepe, on the other hand, where Larry teaches now, is still in session until the end of January). So instead we hopped on a city bus and hoped for the best. It dropped us off at the bottom of the university’s campus, which meant we had a very long walk up a very steep hill to the part of campus where we used to live. But we were game. First, we visited the new shopping mall on campus, where Anna bought a pair of boots and we had lunch. Then we began the climb to Dogu Kampusu (East Campus), where our former apartment and Anna’s school were located. By the time we gasped into the apartment complex (well, I was the one who gasped; my side still hurt from last week’s fall), I was hungry and thirsty again. So we stopped at our old “bakkal,” the tiny store – a shack really -- where we used to buy our daily loaf of bread and our newspaper. Refreshing ourselves with bread sticks and juice and water, we made friends with a local cat, who kept warm on our laps. After photographing Anna’s former kindergarten and our apartment building, we headed downhill to figure out how to get home. We lucked out when we saw a student bus after all (??!??), which dropped us off right in our Bache neighborhood. That was lucky.

Next day, Anna and I tried another adventure—visiting the more touristy part of Old Ankara, inside the Hisar, or fortress. A few months ago, Larry and I had joined a tour of Roman Ankara, when we visited the outer walls of the fortress, which had incorporated some Roman ruins into the construction of the walls. This time, we wanted to see the inner walls and the community that still exists within. We took the subway to Ulus, at the base of the large hill where the fortress is located. From there we took a taxi to the top of the hill, and entered the Hisar through the Clock Tower gate. Immediately we saw exactly the type of souvenir shop we have been looking for for Anna to purchase some gifts for friends back home. Beyond the shops is an old old old neighborhood. Some of the buildings, including an old han, or commercial center from centuries ago, are being or have been renovated. There are many nice restaurants and shops. And several houses have been renovated and are occupied by somewhat wealthy individuals. But by and large, this is a very poor community, with an almost impenetrable maze of alleyways, steep stone steps, and deteriorating houses centuries old. We did not get very far into the fortress for fear of getting hopelessly lost and/or falling off one of the ramparts. But it was great fun nonetheless.

Leaving the hisar, we went down the hill a bit to the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, where, once again, I viewed many thousands of years of the history of Anatolia, or Anadolu, as it was once called. Lunch was at the same beautiful restaurant we had been to a few times before, with the gorgeous panorama of the city. Unfortunately, it was a grey, gloomy day, so the view wasn’t that great. But the lunch was good, and I’ve gotten over my reluctance to ask for a doggie bag, so we ate terrific bread with our dinner that night.

Leaving the hisar, we headed for “copper alley” in hopes of finding yet one more gift for one of Anna’s friends, preferably something in copper. Alas, we found only a few copper shops, not finding the entire street of copper makers I remembered from so long ago. Anna decided to wait until our trip to Istanbul and the Grand Bazaar to select a copper gift. More on that later. Heading down the long steep hill, I took a wrong turn and we were hopelessly lost. Finally having to ask where to find the Ulus subway station, too young men instead kindly led us to the Sihhiye station, a long but flat walk, where I was finally able to get close enough to a statue I have always wanted to photograph. This statue is a huge bronze reproduction of a small Hittite statue found in the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations. It depicts a ram and the Hittite Sun, and served as the symbol of Ankara until the symbol was changed just a few years ago. Now the official city symbol is a stylized mosque and some stars.

More on the Holidays, Dec. 26 to Jan. 2

Two days after arriving at Ankara, our rug dealer, Kadir Bey, called to wish us Merry Christmas. He remembered that Anna was coming and that we had planned to buy her a small rug as a Christmas present. Rather than picking one out for her, however, we thought she would like to see the shop and pick one out for herself. So, after Kadir’s phone call, we planned on another lunch at the rug shop for the next day.

When we first arrived, Kadir and his wife, Neslihan, had a gift prepared for Anna—a small hand knotted rug depicting the Kocatepe Mosque in downtown Ankara. Very thoughtful. After Anna picked out a rug for her future apartment (she may be moving into one in her senior year), she asked to see a few small kilims to pick one out for her boyfriend. Larry and I had discussed buying one more small rug for our house. But—when we saw the kilims being brought out, we were hooked once again. We bought a gorgeous Usak kilim, woven with vegetable dyed wool, depicting wheat and other agricultural motifs, and used as a “rain carpet;” i.e., for prayers seeking rain during a dry spell. Thinking that the kilim was sufficient, rather than the small rug we had intended to buy, we nonetheless also bought a Hereke rug, similar to the one we purchased fifteen years ago, but much smaller. Anna did not select any of the kilims shown because she really wanted a very small one. Nonetheless, when she commented on how beautiful one was, Kadir Bey insisted that she take it as another gift. After finally selecting a very tiny kilim as the wanted gift, once again, Kadir Bey would not take money for it. He certainly is a very generous person. I wonder if he is trying to rid himself of some of his hundreds of rugs and kilims. He and his wife are trying to sell the shop in order to retire to Antalya (he is Larry’s age—i.e., 65).

After the rug transactions, Kadir Bey showed us more of his shop than we had previously seen. The downstairs was used to sell reproduction furniture from one of his workshops. But, more interestingly, the entire space was constructed to reproduce many of the artifacts and architectural flourishes of the old area of Ankara called Hacettepe, where he was born and raised. (Hacettepe University was named after the neighborhood, where the main campus—the medical school—is located). Next week, we will join Kadir Bey for a tour of his old neighborhood. This, according to him, is far more authentic than the area of Ulus, below the fortress (or Kale), which is more of a tourist area.

That evening, we had yet another event in the form of a dinner at one of Larry’s Hacettepe colleague’s apartment. Virtually the entire department was there for the Saturday night dinner party, during which Anna met the wife of one of Larry’s colleagues, who is a practicing physician (the wife, that is); she invited Anna to join her on duty at the hospital emergency room. The dinner was entirely vegetarian in honor of Larry’s food preferences. These are very thoughtful people, indeed.

The following Wednesday, we attended yet another departmental holiday party—this one a joint American Studies Department/English Department potluck held in the former’s large meeting room/library. Unlike the workplace parties I am accustomed to—at least the recent ones, that is—this one went on for hours, with lots of food and wine consumed and eventually dancing and (would you believe?) musical chairs! These folks sure know how to party. One wonders what the students thought as they passed through the department’s hallways, seeing their professors act so silly.

After all the partying of this week, I was somewhat surprised to find our family home alone on New Year’s Eve. Nonetheless, we made plans to wander Yedi Caddesi (7th Ave.), the swinging and very busy street just two blocks from our apartment, to see for ourselves how people in the neighborhood celebrate the holiday. But first, we had some afternoon grocery shopping to do. Yedi Caddesi just had the sidewalks replaced, easing the walk along the busy street. The previous sidewalk was uneven in the extreme, with blocks missing, curbs dropping off unexpectedly, driveways dipping unevenly, and so on. Walking down that busy street, with its heavy traffic and challenging sidewalks has been quite a challenge. But, with the new sidewalks, one can actually look around while walking rather than staring at one’s feet. With the new sidewalks, alas, came complacency. After turning the corner off Yedi Caddesi toward our apartment, I had forgotten that the other streets in our neighborhood still have their old, erractic, sidewalks. Sure enough, walking at a rapid clip, I hit an imperfection with my toe and went careening forward to end up sprawled on the dusty sidewalk. Either my instincts have slowed or I was slowed by the container of yogurt I was carrying home in a bag. Whatever the reason, I did not break my fall with my hands, as most mammals would have done. Instead I landed on my forehead, hitting the sidewalk hard. Being a wearer of glasses, of course, meant that they intervened between my forehead and the sidewalk and cut me fairly well. The blow to the head dazed me for quite some time, meaning I lay immobile on the sidewalk long enough to attract a crowd. So, I provided the early street entertainment on New Year’s Eve. Eventually, someone brought a towel to clean me up (my forehead bled), give me water, then tea, then a bandaid, then lots of advice. The local merchants would not let us leave until they were convinced I was okay. (They were so nice!). As I write this, six days later, the goose egg on my forehead is diminishing, the cut healing, and my mangled glasses frames more or less fixed by a local optician and now wearable after two days without them. (Luckily, the lenses did not break). My side, where I landed on the yogurt container, still hurts though. Always an adventure when one goes out walking with EEE.

Needless to say, I did not join Larry and Anna on their sojourn to Yedi Caddesi that evening. Instead I nursed my wounds and read a novel. Later, after they returned, we watched a BBC special — stand up comedians – for hours, interrupting the show briefly at midnight to watch fireworks outside our window, and channel surfing to see some of the festivities elsewhere in the world. So our New Year’s Eve was salvaged by the Tube after all.

New Year’s Day was spent much like our Christmas Day—at the outdoor gym. Although I joined Larry and Anna on the track, I walked stiffly and did not use any of the exercise equipment. Tomorrow, (January 2), we will pay New Year’s respects to Gulriz, along with two other of her friends and colleagues, Meldan and Bercin. More on that later.

In the evening, three fire engines and various other emergency vehicles drove slowly down our road with lights flashing and horns honking, stopping only a few buildings from our apartment. Anna and I investigated, but saw no fire, and smelled no smoke. There was, however, lots of water on the road. The next day, I noticed “no parking” signs on one side of our street for the first time. There were also several announcements during the day emanating from slowly passing police cars, with an officer announcing something via mounted bullhorn – in Turkish, of course, so we didn’t understand it at the time.

The next night, more flashing lights. This time it was five tow trucks hauling off all the cars on one side of the road – the one with “no parking” signs. Apparently the fire trucks were not happy with their slow progress down our road the previous evening. The method of towing a car is quick and little nerve wracking. A giant claw is lowered over a car, cables attached to the claw fixed on the four corners of a car, then the car lifted, swinging precariously, to the bed of the tow truck. Very quick, and fascinating!

Although ours is in theory a two way street, only one lane is ever open due to parking on both sides of the narrow roadway. Each evening during rush hour, we witness our early evening entertainment as two lines of traffic face each other in gridlock, horns honking, people shouting, always ending with many cars backing up into side streets and driveways to make way for oncoming traffic. It’s great fun to watch. However, with fire engines unable to get down the street in a timely manner, public safety is at stake. Frankly, I am glad to see traffic police finally enforcing the parking laws. But now we need a new form of early evening entertainment – short of tripping over uneven sidewalks, that is.

On Sunday, Anna, Larry, Meldan and I headed to our old neighborhood in Umitkoy to pay a New Year’s visit to Gulriz and her Mama Ayse. The latter is still in the nursing home, paralyzed and unable to speak from a stroke suffered last May. But first we met another of Larry’s colleagues, Bercin, at a fish restaurant near Gulriz’s home where we had a wide variety of fish appetizers (called mezes here) and an entrée of various kinds of fish. This is the first time during this year’s visit that we experienced a type of restaurant service that is common here in fish restaurants. After selecting a table and hanging up one’s coat, we visited the kitchen, where the mezes were displayed on a refrigerated shelf. Mezes are almost always served cold. The bottom shelf displayed the fresh fish from which we choose our entrée, rather than simply consulting a menu. After selecting the mezes and type of fish we want, we choose “fried” or “grilled.” That’s it. No menu, just selections by sight. Then they are cooked to our specifications and duly served.

One of the changes I’ve noticed since our visit here fifteen years ago is portion sizes served at restaurants. For all these years I have remembered being served reasonably small portions when we ate out. Either my memory is faulty, or things have changed, or maybe we just visited cheaper restaurants when we were last here. At any rate, this time we are generally served far more at restaurants than I am comfortable eating. And I think that “doggie bags” are not common; the only person I’ve ever seen ask for one was Gulriz, which she did on this day, but only after I forced myself to eat all on my plate. After we paid the bill, we sat for awhile talking, while, to our surprise, the waiters brought us tea and two types of dessert—unasked for and “on the house.” One was a type of warm, crumbly spice cake which, we discovered after breaking into it, surrounded a large scoop of cold vanilla ice cream, Yum! The other was corn bread which none of us even attempted to try, we were so full. Gulriz brought them home.

A quick visit to Mama Ayse at the nursing home, to drop off a small gift—she was asleep, alas. Then a long visit at Gulriz’s apartment, which was elaborately decorated for Christmas. After some work-related discussions (it was a working visit for the American Studies people), Bercin and Anna made plans for Anna to shadow various doctors at the hospital where Bercin’s husband is a cardiologist and administrator, and also president of Turkey’s cardiologist association. This visit will be the first of several Anna will make with medical people while here in the medical center of the country.

Larry's solo travels - December 2009

Erzurum

While I headed back to the States in December, Larry traveled to two Turkish cities to deliver lectures, courtesy of the U.S. State Department.

The first of his travels involved a plane trip to Erzurum, in the eastern mountainous region of Turkey. As this was a December trip, and winter there essentially begins in October, he was expecting snow, and was not disappointed. Erzurum is a well known ski area for Turkish and European winter sports people.

Ataturk University was the site of his first lecture, entitled “The Meaning and Challenge of the Declaration of Independence.” One of the graduate students attending his lecture later emailed Larry, informing him that she and her colleagues refer to Larry as the “cool man.”

After his lecture, Larry was able to visit two historical sites in the old city, which was the location of Ataturk’s 1919 rallying cry for Turkish Independence. Photos of the two medrese (theological seminaries) can be located at: www.anatolianphotos.shutterfly.com under “Larry’s solo travels.”

The first medrese, Cifti Minareli Medrese (Twin Minaret Seminary) dates from the 13th century and served as an Islamic theological seminary. It is an example of symmetrical Seljuk architecture, with minarets decorated in elaborate small blue tiles, an open courtyard, large central dome, and multiple arches.

The second medrese, Yakutiye, is somewhat more recent, dating from 1310, and served as a Mongol theological seminary. Its tiled minaret, also blue, is a fine example of early elaborate tile work.

After his visit, Larry watched the sky as it turned steely gray, fully expecting to have some unwanted adventures in this cold, mountainous area. Having just finished Orhan Pamuk’s book, Kar (Snow), in which a journalist gets stranded for several days in a blizzard in Kars, a city not that far from Erzurum, I understood Larry’s concern. As there was, in fact, a snow-related delay at the airport, Larry settled down to some people watching, observing that the large number of conservatively dressed people (including some women in shadoor) seemed to be grouped in large families, or “clans.” They were praying, drinking holy water, and otherwise seeming to observe religious and close family rituals as they, too, waited at the airport. As it turned out, large groups of people had come to greet family members returning from the Hajj, or religious pilgrimage to Mecca.

Bursa

Not long after his return from Erzurum, Larry headed by bus to Bursa, the first capital city of the Ottoman Empire (before Edirne and Constantinople). Larry, Anna and I had visited Bursa on our last trip to Turkey in 1995. It is particularly known as a central resting/meeting/trading spot on the Silk Road. Today, it is still a textile center for the country, one I am sorry to have missed this time around.

My memory of Bursa, beside the snow and the cold (it was winter then too), is of elaborate tombs of early Sultans, as well as an ancient silk trading center, the Koza Han, still home to small shops selling colorful silk scarves and other textiles. In ancient times, the Koza Han was a bustling center particularly for the purchase of silk cocoons. A “han” serves not only as a commercial center, but as a resting place for merchants and their pack animals traveling along the Silk Road. They were constructed within one day’s camel trip of each other.

Outside the Han, the city center is particularly beautiful, with cobbled walkways and elegant fountains. The year we were last there, the center had recently won a national award for renovation of a city municipal center. At some point, I would like to visit again on a warm, sunny day.

Larry, alas, had little time for sightseeing on this trip. Instead, he focused on his talk at Uludag University (named after the looming mountain nearby), entitled, “The Meaning of Barack Obama’s Election.” Larry was particularly impressed with the depth of the students’ questions after the talk.