Tags
Cleanliness, Culinary, Istanbul, Journals, Niagara Foundation, Stockholm Syndrome, Travel, Turkey
February 28, 2014: Arrival in Istanbul
Mirrors are now my worst nightmare. I’m uptight about cleanliness even on good days, but going for 24 hours without a shower does not do this body any good. I could scrape layers of grease from my forehead.
Also, I’m pretty sure I could feel mold growing on my teeth from the moment I deluded myself into thinking that waiting to brush my teeth until after we settled in for the night was an acceptable idea.
You know what, Natalie of 24 hours ago? You’re a stupid head who needs to listen to her mother better.
Speaking of whom, before this trip, my mother’s parting words to me were, “Have a good time in Turkey. I’m having a colonoscopy while you’re in Istanbul. Remember that.”
Noted and remembered, mother; don’t you worry.
Though flying isn’t my favorite activity, the trip here wasn’t bad. Turkish Airlines lets you get out onto the tarmac after the flight, so after a long plane ride, I was excited to step outside into mild weather and know that back in Michigan, my darling family and friends were waking up to -12 F.
Sali, our guide, mentioned that Istanbul is a constantly busy city. Foot traffic here is higher than, say, in Detroit (Though we reminded him that the same could be said for almost any location), and as in all old European cities, the past and present coexist structurally everywhere you look.
Dr. Barton pointed out remnants of Constantine’s wall around “New Rome, ” which was built around Constantinople in 600 BCE and used as the capital city for the second half of the Roman Empire; the Hagia Sophia; and the Blue Mosque, both of which we’re visiting tomorrow.
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Shower break. And what a shower it was. At first, I felt like I was someone was spraying holy water on me, and my devilish insides were having none of it, but then I had this lovely transformative experience and cried, “I’m a mermaid!” In that second, life became gorgeous again.
Anyhow.
We had a wonderful dinner tonight, but I also came to the rather disappointing realization that my palate is American through-and-through. Not only am I accustomed to the bland, unhealthy dietary habits that a lifetime of McDonalds has carefully instilled, but I also genuinely enjoy my depravity.
I have, if you will, culinary Stockholm syndrome.
Hopefully my meals this week will help put a stop to this nonsense, but my chances aren’t great. As delicious as the chicken, lamb, and beef were at dinner tonight, I got even more excited when I noticed the Turkish Dominoes Pizza magnet stuck to a fridge in our room.
For most of the week, we’re lodging in the guest wing of a girls’ college, which is actually a middle school. Apparently, this school is a private boarding institution, and all such schools get the designation of “college” here.
Initially, we had a brief mix up with our rooms; our host had thought families, not just individuals, were coming and had outfitted some rooms with double beds instead of two twins.
Though this confusion isn’t a big deal, Sali didn’t explain the problem right away. Between the muffled shouting we heard coming behind closed doors and Sali’s occasional forced-smiling reassurance that he would explain the whole story soon, our group half-worried that the trip was off and we were being sent back to America.
Perhaps not arguing in front of guests is simply a matter of propriety here and the secrecy was only the result of mild embarrassment. However, crossing a decorous host with apologetic visitors certainly presented opportunity for mutual confusion.