tourist-y business & solo wanderings

today was an interesting day, to say the least!

wanna know more? well, then you have to read my verbose and stream-of-consciousness ramblings. oh, but i know you love it.

so G and i met at my hotel in the AM. i was supposed to be switching rooms today, since someone else was coming to stay in my double. originally the hotel desk clerk told me that i had to move to their sister hotel across the street. but then they decided to make things a little easier and i got another "double" room in the same place. however, thinking i could just move stuff over myself, in plastic bags, or whatever, i hadn't really packed up all my junk. but it turned out that the guests in my new room hadn't moved out because they had late check-out. lazy-as* slackers. oh, before i forget. the rooms at this place had names. my first room was called hittite & the second one, troy. pretty awesome, hey?

so i had to leave my stuff and G's in the hallway to be moved when those fools in troy finally got their sh*t together. harrumph. so not in my agenda. oh yeah, G's stuff was going to be staying in my room too since he was crashing with me. we head out.

our first stop was gulhane park, sweet, sweet escape within the city. not that you need to go to gulhane park for respite. still it was nearby and had a great view. we stopped for tea inside the park, gearing up for topkapi palace (beside the park). can i just say how awesome it is that things we wanted to see were relatively close to one another. of course i can say it. you are my captive audience. so i really wanted to see the harem here. really. but it was an extra 10 lira on top of the entrance fee. i checked if you could just go to the harem, but of course not. thanks istanbul ministry of tourism. mean. just plain stingy. so neither G, nor i were willing to pay extra for what (in my opinion) really ought to have been included. turns out that was a good thing since the guide book said that you get "herded through" the harem and you can only do it through guided tours that take place on a schedule. instead, we wandered around the palace. pretty cool place. especially the display of weapons. i could do some major damage on the streets of NYC. we did see the sultan's bed. which upon closer inspection apparently revealed some stains. of the semen variety. okay, gross. sorry. but c'mon it had to be said.

the coolest things were (a) a st. john the baptist relic (his ARM and a piece of his SKULL; and (b) muhammed's jacket (in a box) - you couldn't actually see the jacket, but i believe it. and we saw a kickass huge diamond. a diamond that had been located (at one time) in a dumpster. puts a whole new spin on dumpster diving.

we then decided to go check out a movie at the beyoglu sinemax. i had to go see a movie in an istanbul-i theatre. the highlight of the movie was the cute woman working the concession stand. seriously. high. light. the movie we saw is called outlaw. it was a scottish film and required a dictionary to understand. G had found an awesome baklava place on the main drag of beyoglu. i snuck it in. G snuck in a beer because he's bad like that. & that's just the way he rolls. so, to give you an idea of how kick-a*s this baklava is. the hotel front desk guy at G's hotel raised his hands to allah when he saw G with the baklava. this is a very good omen, natch. never thought i'd use natch in a sentence (written or otherwise) and now i have. sky has not fallen. though my cool barometer just hit the abyss. when G offered some baklava to the guy, he closed his eyes, raise his hand (palm-up) to G, shook his head and said "my wife says too much baklava." super cute. i didn't actually witness this exchange. this is all G's information. it's probably true since he doesn't exaggerate nearly as much as i do.

or maybe he does. & everything he told me was a lie.

the movie was so-so. the air/conditioning barely worked. i could have stood at the front of the theatre and blown air on everyone and it would have been cooler in there.

so, we had to go back to our cafe for some narghile, tavla & tea. me smoking the narghile is a pretty awesome sight. if G sends me the pictures, i'll post them up here. i can't really moan about that since i'm still not finished cataloguing mine. i need a personal assistant to assist with tech-related stuff. any offers?

so, G had plans for the evening and i was on my own. not to worry. on my own? i'm practically always on my own if you factor in my inner-mind fantasy land.

i think i previously mentioned the guy handing out pamphlets for the fancy restaurant. he parks himself at the end of the lane with our cafe. and really loves to chat with us. he kept trying to give us the brochure for the "memories" -- of what, i'm not sure. memories of harassment. good times. anyway, we really didn't know what he was touting. we took the pamphlet for the memories. we stopped to chat a bit (in retrospect, bad idea). he asked us where we're from and what we do. he joking (i hope) asked if we could take him back with us. ha ha. when G mentioned he was a teacher, he sort of ah-ed and nodded. when G said i was an avocat, he practically did a back-flip. he then insisted on trying on my glasses. i warned him that he'd be blinded, probably for life, or at least for the next 15 minutes. then of course, i caved. he was then wildly blinded. anyway, the excitement over my job was really weird. most of the time, guys run away like i'm about to hand them a subpoena. jeez louise. am i really that scary? c'mon i look like i'm 14.

i dropped G off at the funicular for his fun evening. i walked up & down beyoglu's streets, wandering in and out of shops. here and there. everywhere. starving. G and i had seen a "world coffee" place that looked cool & had good coffee (or so we'd heard/read/something.) it turned out to be a mirage because i couldn't find it. i was about to buckle and go to starbucks when i remembered a place called ada, cool coffee shop/restaurant/bookstore. i passed by it. easy to spot since there was scaffolding on the building next door. decided to dine there. and read my book. the menu didn't have much turkish food. i opted for pasta. and some turkish cheese rolls which turned out to be like wontons or spring rolls with with the local cheese inside. this might be a repeater story (what can i say, i'm turning into my mom) but when i asked at breakfast one morning (one morning when i actually ate my included with the price of the room rooftop breakfast) what the name of the cheese was. it's really delicious. like feta without the salty edge. the woman serving breakfast said "it's called cheese." yes, thank you. i thought it was called "goat". anyway, i asked what kind of cheese. she said "white cheese." what! white cheese! wow. anyway, without being any more snarky, it turned out that G had had a similar experience when he inquired about the cheese. i'll hit up murray's and ask for turkish cheese. should be good enough.

so my dinner was pretty good. i had a super cute waiter (deja vu!). we chatted and i turned on my feminine charms. namely, smiling a lot. he asked me some of the usual questions. where i'm from...what i do...what i think of istanbul. the you-zh. i go on about how i'm staying in sultanahmet and it sucks over there. next time, i'll stay in beyoglu. he agrees that sultanahmet sucks elbow. i finish up dinner; read a bit; ask for the cheque (yes, it's cheque, not check (mark).) anyway, he comes by to drop off the bill and asks me if i'm going to go back to sultanahmet. i say, yeah my travel companion is busy tonight and that i might wander around a bit and then take the tram home. i mention how i got stuck and had to take a vastly overpriced taxi one night. he asks if i want to come back to the restaurant when he's done his shift (in about half an hour), we could hang out, walk around beyoglu. i had nothing to do and it was still pretty early, so i say sure. he looks like he's about 20 but whatevz - i'm a lady about town. or a cougar. unclear. okay, it's clear but i prefer the former. and besides, who am i to turn down the attentions of a cute young man. i come back in a bit, browse the books, have a latte at the restaurant until he's ready to go.

we go out on our date. now, i'm tempted not to say anymore about the date because, well, i like to keep you guessing and i like an air of mystery. but i also like attention so i'll go on a bit. he takes me out to a fancy cafe (the beer is considerably more expensive than down cheap beer alley.) i tease him about being a "bad muslim" for being a beer-drinker. he tells me about his family. he has a 6 yr old sister who he absolutely adores. he wants to work on a cruise ship so he can help out his family with more money. his father makes just the rent on their apartment, so his contribution is really significant & important. so different from my life. i worry about my parents & about how they will do financially once my dad retires, but i can scarcely say i contribute to financing their household. we have a lovely time. we talk about my family, where i grew up, how few indian people there were, but what i've retained/rejected from my heritage. he's really interested in how multicultural society works. he's quite idealistic about it. i tell him that sometimes the diversity tapestry is frayed. and kind of tired looking.

he wants to hang out some more. and so do i. he's really good company and his english is really good, actually. we can actually communicate beyond the basics. so we decide to go back to sultanahmet since i have to go back there anyway and it's getting late. in true gentleman form, he wants to make sure i get back safely. quite the contrast to the NY "drop off" at the subway with a quick see you later. don't mean to hate on boys here. but there's something nice about being taken to your door. and that delicious butterfly feeling thinking about a goodnight kiss. so we head to sultanahmet in a taxi that isn't a rip-off. we pick up some beverage along the way. the bars/restaurants in my nabe are lacking ambience, kind of lame and packed with grizzled-looking australians and brits. we head to my room with our drinks to keep up the conversation. ostensibly.

now this is where the story is choose your own adventure. because, well, like vegas whatever happens in istanbul stays in istanbul. but don't let my mysterious ways constrain your imagination. envision whatever you want in your musings. i will tell you that: i'm not married or pregnant. those things are certain.

so go wild. you can't expect me to spoon feed you everything.

oh, he turned out to be 25 years old. my friends here think 25 is my magic number. i'm inclined to agree.