My Poison -- Istanbul, Turkey

Ayse putters around in the kitchen, glasses hit countertops and water splashes into the sink. Spoons scrape bowls and thick smells waft into the living room.

I think she’s making the creamy spinach dish again. I have no idea of the actual name, but the food itself is marvelous. My Indian friend would probably spit it out and say, “it has no flavor”, but I find myself completely enjoying the relatively few Turkish dishes without bread. But that's part of my personality -- I make an effort to appreciate the things I can eat, regardless of whether or not I find them satisfying.

I don't have a lot to share from the past few days. Maud left early Tuesday afternoon after treating me to hot chocolate, a chai (the American version) and making me a present of her soft black gloves. 

"I kept asking me what you wanted from Holland, but all you said was "chocolate"," she tsked over my throbbing, swollen fingers.

"I didn't know I could have asked for gloves. Thank-you so much, Maud. My hands will be warm now." 

I disembarked at the Çapa station and waved goodbye to my Dutch friend, promising to visit her in Rotterdam before flying back to the States for my friend's wedding. 

She's a good one. A really, really good one. 

 

It started to snow as I walked the twenty minutes back to Çasim's apartment. My hands were snug inside Maud's gloves, but my nose was turning red with cold, my ears burned and my cheeks tingled. 

I suppose there will always be something. Damn this weather. 

I stomped up the one flight of stairs and turned the key to Çasim's.

I have so many keys again, I stared at my full key chain in disbelief. You'd think I was a settled woman, what with all the clinking and clanking and fumbling in my purse. 

Being a settled woman is a thought that deeply unnerves me. 

Just a few moments, my head pounded as I collapsed onto Çasim's floral couch. So many mistakes last night... good grief, never again. Maud and I had tried Raki, a traditional Turkish alcohol that tastes similar to ouzo or pastis, and the outcome had been less than favorable. 

I think I found my poison. Lesson learned.

before I learned my lesson

Raki changes from clear to white when mixed with water. It's popularly called, "Lion's Milk'. This is one lady who shant be drinking any lion's milk in the near future.

Umit's mother had scheduled some doctor's appointments in the city center, so my host arranged for her to stay with Çasim and for me to return to spare room with Seher, Ayse and ¨Oykü. I packed a plastic bag with my few toiletries, the remainder of Dutch chocolate and my laptop, zipped up my jacket and bustled out into the cold. 

It began to hail. I waited at the bus stop for 45 minutes, staring dismally down the snowy street at the stream of backed up buses, desperate for a glimpse of 145T. By the time the double decker lumbered to a stop, I was willing to be just as rude as anyone else in line, and refused to let a middle school girl shove past me.

I'm standing my ground to a kid. What the hell is happening to me? She was probably just trying to push through to get closer to her mom.

I was looking forward to the relative quiet of Umit's residential area (even though Öykü does an admirable job breaking the relative quiet) and was excited to spend more time with my Turkish family.

She is a veritable whirlwind of activity and nearly impossible to catch on camera

Caught. And rather unhappy about it.

Ayse knit this hat. I will learn how to knit myself a hat just like it and wear it always.

A few fun recipes from Istanbul:

YOGURT SOUP. Looks like it would be terrible, but it's actually quite delicious. Try it out.

TURKISH SPINACH. This recipe is similar to what Ayse created, but she didn't use tomatoes.

TURKISH STUFFED CABBAGE. Umit's mother made this flavorful masterpiece.

So. Get your Turkish on. Afiyet olsun.