Turkish Desserts -- Istanbul, Turkey

I'm starting this post from my new café. It's empty, quiet and warm. The waiters don't bring me free snacks like they did in the Ipek bakery down the street, but I also don't have to regretfully send the snacks away with an apologetic, exasperated smile and an "allergic... ekmek" for the twentieth time.

I sit in a plush cream seat with "Istanbul" scrawled into the fabric on red script and feel like a traitor. I don't abandon cafés easily (I'm very loyal to my coffee spot), and I dread the thought of passing Hussein in the street and having to explain, "my computer just hates your Internet! I'm sorry."

"Hates?"

"Umm... not hates. My computer doesn't work with your Internet."

"Work?"

"I can't connect. Every time -- kapat. Argh."

Language barriers create interest, humor and frustration in situations that are customarily so simple. It's like learning to write with your left hand after breaking your right or writing on a Turkish keyboard instead of an English keyboard. Things that you used to take for granted -- that used to flow -- become painstakingly tedious and taxing.

Yesterday was my first day exploring the city center since Maud left for Amsterdam over a week ago. I've been feeling a bit cooped up in Beylikduzu and rapidly developing a gnarly case of cabin fever as well as a brutal cold. Mix that in with my overwhelming sense of holiday homesickness and the aggravation I feel when I nearly get hit by perpetually inconsiderate, truculent drivers, and you've got a cantankerous mess on your hands.

It was good to see the city.

I've been practicing yoga with admirable consistency lately and the vinyasas help calm and center my disrupted mind. I don't want to take out this unreasonable negativity on the goodhearted people hosting me, so I do my best to find a sense of quiet and peace and clarity with my yoga paws and specially designed playlists. I go to bed early and don't play with Öykü as often as I should. I retreat to the quiet of my Kindle and dive into the poetic world of Fitzrgerald's "The Beautiful and Damned." I create yoga routines for the Croatia retreat and I work on my watercolor project.

Postcard for Baris of a statue we both liked in Italy

Postcard for Stefan of our day slacklining in the park.

My eyes burn, my nose runs, my ears throb and my heart hurts. Ayse made me some soothing herbal tea yesterday and motioned that I squeeze a lemon over it, but all I really wanted was the strange onion tea my mother brews to cure us of absolutely ailment.

I boarded the metrobus at half eleven and sped off towards the city center.

 It felt good to sit and sway gently and listen to radiolab discuss the end of the dinosaurs. Listening to a theory of how a meteor destroyed the entire world in an impressive total of two hours certainly but put my pathetic head cold into perspective.

Stepping off the metrobus at Cevizlibag, I hopped on a tram heading for Kabatas.

I'm actually getting good at this. My insides grew warm as I appreciated this discovery. One day, I will have the confidence to travel the world alone. Without volunteering or constantly needing people to hold my hand. 

Speaking of guides, the four students who met me at Çapa were extraordinary little leaders, took me to a new part of the city and bought me the first fish I've eaten in Istanbul.

I asked for an Ayran, but the server said that you do not drink Ayran with fish. You drink Ayran with kebab, you drink soda or tea with fish. I drank tea and they drank soda. I felt like a very bad American indeed.

We did two yoga poses on the way to lunch.

We talked about Christmas in the states and New Year's in Istanbul. I asked them to write down their favorite desserts for me --

Kadayif

Künefe

Yalanci Tavuk Gogsu (I could only find recipes for the fake chicken breast version, but if you're a hardcore foodie, think about adding the real stuff. Protein pudding.)

Kazandibi

View from the restaurant

 I asked if they were all Muslim and they said, "Of course!"

They already knew that I was some manner of atheist/agnostic. News like that gets around.

I explained Smores, talked about TV shows, and asked which countries they'd like to visit.

 

After lunch, we walked to Aleyna's family café and drank Turkish coffee --

admired cakes --

and ate pudding.

We boarded the bus for Çapa station. My throat hurt was beginning to hurt and I was nervous about the hour and a half ride home during rush hour. 

At least I'll be warm. What with all those bodies crushing against me. 

I was very warm. Very warm indeed. 

I painted. Drank tea. Retired to bed with Fitzgerald. 

Everything is so good... I... just... *sigh* being in Turkey amongst all these family oriented people makes me think about my own way too much. 

P.S. Seher made this dessert the other day: Candied Pumpkin

 
And it was sublime. Eat it. Have yourself a Merry Turkish Christmas Treat.