Turkey roundup
A few last photos that didn't fit into any other category.
A really wide view of the Bosphorus, with Istanbul Asia visible on the far bank. Click on the photo and expand it for full effect.
You might have heard that Turkish rug merchants can be aggressive. I'm here to tell you: Believe everything you hear. These guys are persistent to the point of deviousness. This was a rug show we had after our tour – one guy made a speech while his little rug trainees ran around throwing carpets into a pile on the floor. The carpets really were quite beautiful, but the salesmen who gripped my arm afterwards seemed not to understand quite how little money is in my rug budget. He thought I was playing coy as a bargaining position, but I'm not coy – just poor. I think the guy finally got the point that negotiations were doomed after he opened with an offer of $12,000 and I countered with $15.
I love this photo for its after-school-special quality. We were inside the Sulemaniyeh mosque – our third grand mosque of the day – and everybody was a little bit sick of our tour guide's droning, repetitive spiel, and of mosques in general. ("This is a mosque. The religion is called Is-lam. Is-lam. The people are called Mus-lims. Mus-lims.")
So this little Muslim baby and this Asian tourist woman really took a liking to each other. It was all very multi-cultural and cute.
One small view of the Topkapı Palace. The palace is huge, famous for its luscious harem chambers and its precious artifacts and jewels. But the harem chambers were closed for repair and the jewels were ho-hum, or maybe I was just burned out on touring. So Julia and I sat outside on a terrace overlooking the Bosphorus, and I made fun of her English accent, and she made fun of all Americans, and particularly the ones on our tour bus. The wide-angle photo of the Bosphorus, above, was taken from the terrace at Topkapı Palace.
Just for the record, the Americans on our tour were indeed a couple of jackasses.
The entrance to the Grand Bazaar in Izmir. This was personally satisfying to me, as I've long argued we should put a giant sign saying "GOD" above the entrance to Pentagon City Mall.
A family on a buggy rides to the airport. I'm sure a lot of buggy jokes are possible here, but I'm just going to leave it.
I explained the rules of American football to a couple of Turkish guys using this chessboard. The queens were the quarterbacks, knights and bishops were running backs, and pawns were linemen. A small sugar cube represented the ball. I demonstrated some basic plays. Even after my excellent show, they persisted – bizarrely, in my view – in their belief that soccer is just as good a sport as football.
A protest in Istanbul against Coca Cola. These men yelled and shouted violently and we left just as the police in riot gear were arriving. I don't know what they were so mad about. Coke is a delicious and refreshing beverage.
A statue in Izmir. This guy was a journalist. But look at the way he's pointing that gun! The Turks thought this guy was a bad ass! Now there's a culture that respects good journalism.
I'm a journalist, by the way. To my great disappointment and frustration, I was not issued a gun at my last job covering the Medicare bureaucracy.
A re-creation of traditional Turkish life, from a museum I saw. I took the photo because this is the life I want. Seriously, this man has got it made. The wife is looking after the baby while the dude just chills, wearing a kick-ass hat and smoking a shisha.
For those that complained that I didn't take enough pictures of myself, here's the second one. This is me (in a mirror) after the Turkish bath. You strip down nekkid and they swaddle you in these towels.
A few words about the Turkish bath. You lay there on this heated marble slab, cooking like a fish in a pan. Your sweat puddles around you and tries to boil away. Then the Turkish guy comes and beats you and cracks your bones. You grunt and moan and try not to cry. Then he puts a ferocious mitt on his hand and grates away at your skin like it's a moldy old cheese that he's trying to salvage. When most of your skin is rubbed away, he beats you again with a giant soap stick, then asks for a tip.
It's awesome.
A really wide view of the Bosphorus, with Istanbul Asia visible on the far bank. Click on the photo and expand it for full effect.
You might have heard that Turkish rug merchants can be aggressive. I'm here to tell you: Believe everything you hear. These guys are persistent to the point of deviousness. This was a rug show we had after our tour – one guy made a speech while his little rug trainees ran around throwing carpets into a pile on the floor. The carpets really were quite beautiful, but the salesmen who gripped my arm afterwards seemed not to understand quite how little money is in my rug budget. He thought I was playing coy as a bargaining position, but I'm not coy – just poor. I think the guy finally got the point that negotiations were doomed after he opened with an offer of $12,000 and I countered with $15.
I love this photo for its after-school-special quality. We were inside the Sulemaniyeh mosque – our third grand mosque of the day – and everybody was a little bit sick of our tour guide's droning, repetitive spiel, and of mosques in general. ("This is a mosque. The religion is called Is-lam. Is-lam. The people are called Mus-lims. Mus-lims.")
So this little Muslim baby and this Asian tourist woman really took a liking to each other. It was all very multi-cultural and cute.
One small view of the Topkapı Palace. The palace is huge, famous for its luscious harem chambers and its precious artifacts and jewels. But the harem chambers were closed for repair and the jewels were ho-hum, or maybe I was just burned out on touring. So Julia and I sat outside on a terrace overlooking the Bosphorus, and I made fun of her English accent, and she made fun of all Americans, and particularly the ones on our tour bus. The wide-angle photo of the Bosphorus, above, was taken from the terrace at Topkapı Palace.
Just for the record, the Americans on our tour were indeed a couple of jackasses.
The entrance to the Grand Bazaar in Izmir. This was personally satisfying to me, as I've long argued we should put a giant sign saying "GOD" above the entrance to Pentagon City Mall.
A family on a buggy rides to the airport. I'm sure a lot of buggy jokes are possible here, but I'm just going to leave it.
I explained the rules of American football to a couple of Turkish guys using this chessboard. The queens were the quarterbacks, knights and bishops were running backs, and pawns were linemen. A small sugar cube represented the ball. I demonstrated some basic plays. Even after my excellent show, they persisted – bizarrely, in my view – in their belief that soccer is just as good a sport as football.
A protest in Istanbul against Coca Cola. These men yelled and shouted violently and we left just as the police in riot gear were arriving. I don't know what they were so mad about. Coke is a delicious and refreshing beverage.
A statue in Izmir. This guy was a journalist. But look at the way he's pointing that gun! The Turks thought this guy was a bad ass! Now there's a culture that respects good journalism.
I'm a journalist, by the way. To my great disappointment and frustration, I was not issued a gun at my last job covering the Medicare bureaucracy.
A re-creation of traditional Turkish life, from a museum I saw. I took the photo because this is the life I want. Seriously, this man has got it made. The wife is looking after the baby while the dude just chills, wearing a kick-ass hat and smoking a shisha.
For those that complained that I didn't take enough pictures of myself, here's the second one. This is me (in a mirror) after the Turkish bath. You strip down nekkid and they swaddle you in these towels.
A few words about the Turkish bath. You lay there on this heated marble slab, cooking like a fish in a pan. Your sweat puddles around you and tries to boil away. Then the Turkish guy comes and beats you and cracks your bones. You grunt and moan and try not to cry. Then he puts a ferocious mitt on his hand and grates away at your skin like it's a moldy old cheese that he's trying to salvage. When most of your skin is rubbed away, he beats you again with a giant soap stick, then asks for a tip.
It's awesome.
posted by Eric at 12:21 AM
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