Beginnings of Amsterdam

The bus actually got to Amsterdam 45 minutes earlier than it was supposed to. We hung out in the bus station for a while, then took a city bus to our hostel. The man at the check-in desk told us that Michael Jackson had died. We thought he was kidding and chuckled. Then he told us he was serious and we were shocked. We dumped our stuff at the hostel and walked into the city (about 45 minutes from the hostel to the center) where we got coffee, breakfast (which was brunch by that point), and sat around using wifi for three hours. Then we walked around the city a bit getting information and planning what to do for the next few days. Throughout the city we could hear Michael Jackson’s music playing from bars and cafes. It was like a huge memorial to him. We could also hear people talking about it everywhere.

Amsterdam is small, and everyone rides a bike. I knew to expect that, but there are bikes everywhere. Cyclists have dedicated bike lanes on almost all roads. They don’t slow down for people; instead, they ring their bell. Crossing the street is complicated because, at some intersections, you have to cross the bike lane, then the car lane, then the tram tracks, then another car lane and the other bike lane. None of these lanes are particularly wide, but you have to be really careful and aware of your surroundings.

There are also canals and bridges throughout the city. We walked through the red-light district where we could see the girls behind glass doors. They stand around in their skimpy outfits hoping to attract attention from the passers-by. You’re not really allowed to take their photograph as you pass, but you are allowed to photograph the neighborhood during the daytime. On the way back to the hostel we stopped and got groceries, which was frustrating because the packaging is all in Dutch and I have no idea what’s in half the stuff the store, had. There were tons of prepackaged salads, but I couldn’t buy any of them because I couldn’t easily identify all of the ingredients. However, I did find a single serving of raw broccoli. I bought that, along with a cucumber and some fruit. Our hostel doesn’t have a kitchen, which is unfortunate. Otherwise, it’s a really nice place. It’s huge and used to be a school. Everything is new and shiny and there’s recycling!

Saturday I went around to museums while Jess hung out in the hostel. First, I went to the Anne Frank House. I got there at 9:15 (it opens at 9, but they hadn’t opened yet) and had to wait on a short line. Once inside, I began in the basement which was the storage facility for the jam company that her father ran. The museum had her quotes throughout it in both English and Dutch. On that level, I watched a short video about her life and the Jewish experience in the Netherlands during and preceding the Holocaust. On the first floor, I stood in the offices where Frank’s father worked and the “helpers” spent their days. These were the people who helped hide the family. On that level there was another short video, an interview with one of the helpers: the woman who rescued and safeguarded the diary. Passing through the bookcase/door I climbed the steep stairs up to the attic apartments. The stairs were so narrow that they were almost like a ladder. There was no furniture in the apartments. Actually, most of the museum was empty. There were some display cases and some quotes on the walls, but the focus was on the text and the space. Frank’s father did not want the apartment furnished because the original furnishings were taken when the Nazis ransacked the place just after taking the family. He did allow historians to furnish the place once and record a video of it. He also aided in the construction of scale models.

In 2009, I could see the rooms and there were some displays on the walls. These were of items the family used: Latin lessons, a Dickens book, a menu for a party. There were wall markings where the children’s height was recorded. Anne’s room had pictures up on the wall. There was also one place with a small map which Mr. Frank used to track the Allies as they moved through Normandy. It was a different perspective on something which I had just seen because I had just been in Normandy and stood in the places he had marked. The apartment was tiny, especially when you think of the eight people who had lived there. It was also dark: the museum-style lighting was bright enough, but the curtains were all drawn. This made it easy to see how claustrophobic the apartment must have been for the family. After going up through the space, visitors were guided into a new building where various versions of the diary are housed in display cases. They have copies of all the languages it’s been published in including Yiddish, Georgian, and Korean among others. They also have the actual red plaid diary that Anne used.

Exiting the museum, there was a new exhibit about Freedom. Two video screens were set up in a room which had theater-style seating. One screen was used for short videos, each ending in a question. For example: Should people be able to burn the flag as a means of protest? Should Holocaust-deniers be allowed to publish their thoughts on the web? Should the Spanish government shut down the Basque-language newspaper because it suspects possibly ties to ETA? Should headscarves be banned from French schools? (The video was a little outdated because Sarcozy just banned burkas from France.) After the videos the audience was supposed to vote (yes/no) for each question. The other screen had graphs showing the results of our voting and the results of everyone who had been to the exhibit. Because I had been there early in the morning, there were not many people in the room. After the French question, three girls got up and left. I knew that these girls were French because I stood behind them in the queue at the entrance. They didn’t even say anything to each other when leaving. They just shared a glance, stood up and walked out. I really liked the exhibit because it forced people to think. Most of the videos were about different countries, making it likely that a viewer would watch one about his or her country and, therefore, be forced to think about issues that are close to home.

The next museum I visited was the Rijksmuseum, dedicated to the 17^th Century “Golden Age” in the Netherlands. I must have missed that bit of European history when I was supposed to learn about the Spanish, French and English fighting over Dutch territory. Apparently that was the case until the Dutch finally overthrew the Spanish after the 80s years war (1568-1648). Anyway, they established a republic, got some ships, started sailing around the world and became quite powerful. The lower floor of the museum focused on their wealth and acquisition of goods. My favorite room was dedicated to doll houses that rich women would maintain as a status symbol. These were elaborate and could cost as much as a modest (life-sized) canal house. The doll houses had several floors and miniature furniture much like the ones I played with as a child. These however were made of much more elaborate materials. The other interesting room on this floor was one which housed delftware. This is the name for blue-and-white pottery made in Delft to replace pottery of the same style that the Dutch imported from China. They started making their own version when they could no longer import because of a Chinese civil war in 1657. My mother later informed me that we have a piece of Delftware at house: a plate.

Upstairs was dedicated to Dutch art, which is one of my favorite collections in most museums. Because the Netherlands was predominatntly Protestant, there was little religious art. In most other countries, the Catholic Church commissioned most of the artwork, especially large scale works. In the Netherlands, artists produced small paintings and preferred landscapes, still lifes, and portraits. I wish they had more portraits by Frans Hals because I like his lose “rough” style. His subjects always seem happy because he gives them life instead of painting stiff, traditional portraits. The museum had landscapes by Jacob van Ruisdael and his uncle S. J. van Ruysdael. Jacob is the better-known painter, but I like the uncle’s work better: he keeps the horizon line low and paints lots of sky. Even more than their works, I discovered that I really like the riverscapes because they remind me of Cape Cod. I saw many more at the Mauritshuis in The Hague. The museum had a bunch of Rembrandt’s paintings including “Nightwatch,” his largest painting and the first painting of a militia company in motion. It’s a huge painting that was actually cut down from its original size because it was moved to a smaller space. In it, Rembrandt depicts all the wealthy men in one militia company that defended the city. Some still life paintings I really liked were those by Adrian Corte whose small paintings were of a few fruits or vegetables rather than an entire table-full.

Then there were the Vermeer paintings. The museum only had three because one was on loan. The first one I encountered was “The Little Street” (1658). This painting is what it sounds like, a picture of a little street in Delft. In it, he depicts the buildings rather than people (his norm). He applied the paint thick in some places, and thin in others. He also used smooth brush strokes in some parts of the painting and rough ones in other parts, like the bricks, for example. It’s a peaceful street scene, but not as great as some of his other works. I prefer his intimate depictions of women placed in a white-walled room with the light entering from the left. “The Kitchen Maid” (1658) is one of those paintings. In it, he used dots (kind of a mini pointillism) to show the reflection in the bread and the woman’s skirt. You can only see the dots if you look really closely at the painting. Vermeer was a genius with light. His third painting at the museum was “Woman Reading a Letter” (1663), another intimate scene, though not quite as iconic of his work.

Behind the Rijksmuseum was the Van Gogh Museum. I had purchased a museum pass (it’s actually an annual student membership to many Dutch museums; it was only 22 euro and it more than paid for itself). One floor of the museum was dedicated to Van Gogh’s work and life. The other two were used for another exhibit and another wing was loaned to the Stedelijk Museum (modern art) which is closed due to remodeling. I had not realized Van Gogh only painted for ten years. When he was 28, he decided to become a painter. He basically dropped everything and started painting constantly. His first five years as an artist were spent in the Netherlands where he painted dark, realistic, “pleasant” paintings. He then moved to Paris where his brother worked as an art dealer. He spent the next five years of his life (these were also the last five years of his life) in France, where he painted the works which made him famous. The museum had some of them, including “The Bedroom” (1888), which was a really interesting painting: very flat and planar with each plain representing “sleep” and “rest.” The colors were brighter than his Dutch paintings and, therefore, this painting was given a much lighter tone. Van Gogh was crazy. He cut off his own ear, then spent time in a mental institution, took himself out and shot himself. The museum had one of the last paintings he made: “Wheatfield with crows” (1890). This painting is more typical of the works he is famous for: it’s brightly colored and the brush strokes are flowy and loose. People think the crows represent “death” and that this painting was meant to foreshadow his death.

The special exhibit wasn’t great, but the modern art museum’s exhibit was nice. It wasn’t fantastic or large, rather one room dedicated to artists in the 1920s and another dedicated to the 1960s. In the 1920s section, there were works by Dutch De Stijl artists. These included “Contra Composition V” (1924) by Theo Van Doesburg. He used primary colors like Mondrian, but his lines are diagonal to show “restless dynamism.” I also liked a painting by George Geosz called “The Rabble Rouser” (1928) because it was somewhat dada – about a nightmare – but there were cartoon heads that had political meanings and the colors were muted. The works were around a curved wall. The artist’s name along with the city and year the piece was created were painted in black letters below each piece. The exhibit focused more on European artists for the 1960s section which I was glad about because I’m so used to seeing only American artists in that category. Instead, I learned about Yves Klein whose gilded panel called “Resonance MG16” (1960, Paris) was a large gold-leaf panel covering concave recesses. The best piece on the floor was the precursor to a piece we saw at the Tate Modern in London. It was a video called “Neo-Classic” (1971) by Robert Morris, an American. He filmed an exhibit he put on at the Tate (then London’s Tate Gallery) where he had three actors give a performance with his wooden objects. These “objects” were the same things we got to experience in the Tate turbine room: a large hamster wheel and the same slides and things to climb on. It was strange to see an almost 40-year-old representation of something I got to see in reality a few weeks ago. Especially considering that I thought it was new because it was in the Tate turbine room which is a large, open space used for special exhibitions only.

Wandering back through the city, I went next to Rembrandt’s House. He lived there when he was at the height of his career, from 1639 until he had to sell everything in 1656 because he went bankrupt. He wrote a list of everything he owned, so historians were able to recreate the rooms. You enter the museum through the basement where you see the kitchen, which was large. Then I went upstairs to the entrance room and his bedroom. At Rembrandt’s time, people slept in box beds – a kind of armoire with a short bed. They actually slept sitting up because they were afraid they would stop breathing if they lay down. The upper floors of the house were Rembrandt’s studios. Here, I watched a demonstration of how paint was mixed during the time period. I also saw his engravings which were incredible. The amount of attention he paid to the details and the care he took in creating the plates is evident in the prints. Unfortunately there weren’t many on display because most of the museum was showing his friend’s work. Jan Lievens was considered a “child prodigy.” He and Rembrandt did work together – in one series of prints, Rembrandt uses a figure from Lievens and adds to it.

That evening, Jess came to town and we met up and grabbed some groceries for dinner. While sitting on a bench, we discovered that pigeons really do eat just about anything. We got one to eat raisins with egg salad on them. Then we walked to the red light district, went to a bar and had beers/cider and fries. We sat on the sidewalk watching people go by. The bar we had picked had hilarious rules. People were allowed to smoke outside, but not inside. You could drink inside or outside, but only if you had a table outside. People were getting yelled at for taking their drinks outside with them while they smoked. There was a doorway next to the bar that had to remain unblocked, but a table could be placed within three feet (not too close, but it still blocked the residents from entering their building). The fries were good and the cider too; it was a really nice night and we enjoyed being outside.

Then we walked the red light district at night time and looked at the girls as we passed by their doors. Each girl stands behind a glass door which is lit with a red fluorescent bulb above it; most have black light inside or next to the door. Some of the girls are pretty and have nice bodies, while others are more full-figured. A few didn’t bother wearing skimpy clothing, but most had on thongs or short, tight skirts. People wave to them as they pass and we did see at least one guy going into a room. Some girls had their curtains closed to show they were “busy.”

Sunday we took the train to The Hague where we visited the Mauritshuis. I had always wanted to go there, but didn’t understand where it was when I first started studying art history. I was confused as to how there could be a town called “The Hague.” I didn’t understand the way a town could have “the” in its name. The Mauritshuis is an old palace, so the collection is shown in small, intimate rooms and the building itself is also on display.

Five years after my introduction to Vermeer’s work, I was finally seeing the town where his best-known painting hangs. “Girl With a Pearl Earring” (1665) is located here. It’s not actually a portrait, but rather an example of a Dutch tronie, a painting based off of a model but designed to show an expression or style rather than an exact portrait. The reflection off of her earring is enough to make the painting “a great.” In 1881, the painting sold for the equivalent of one euro. It would go for tons more if sold today.

The museum had only two more works by Vermeer. One was “Diana and Her Nymphs” (1653-4). One of Vermeer’s first works, this painting is large and shows five females in a woods scene. They’re outdoors, which is strange for Vermeer. After his lifetime, someone painted the dark, tree-filled background with a bright blue sky. In 1999 historians discovered that Vermeer intended the background to be brown and they, realizing it could not be restored correctly, painted the background black. I was pretty put-off by this because ethically I don’t think the work should have been changed. If it could have been restored, that would have been best, but changing it in this way was not appropriate. The third painting of Vermeer’s was “View of Delft” (1660-1). It’s his other townscape (see Rijksmuseum) and again he used pointillism ot show reflections in the water and on the ship. Vermeer had a short life: he died at 43 and really only painted two works a year. There are only 37 paintings attributed to him. During his life, anyone in town could own one of his paintings, including the baker of Delft. He was basically forgotten in the 18^th century, but rediscovered in the 1850s when people began painting reproductions of his works.

The Mauritshuis had some other paintings which were interesting. These included a series by Cornelis Troost. Calle NELRI (1739-1740), he was an actor who did five paintings that are like a play showing the effects of drinking too much. I also found more riverscapes I liked, including those by Aert van der Neer (1650s). Apparently Cynthia Nixon (Miranda from Sex and the City) was at the museum when we were there. I didn’t see her, but Jess did.

After the museum, we wandered around The Hague a bit. There was an Iran-related demonstration in a plaza. We couldn’t understand any of the languages being spoken and there weren’t that many people there. The only police presence was a bike cop and a security guard from a nearby building. We walked around the pedestrianized streets browsing at the stores there and having a really hard time finding the train station. This was because all the signs led us to the same place. Finally we asked, went there and hopped a train to Delft.

Delft is where Vermeer was born, lived and painted. We found information kiosks where we could print out maps of the city. We walked through the downtown which is full of canals and pedestrian-zones to the Vermeercentrum, a museum on his life and work. First we watched a video about him, then we saw reproductions of all of his works (none of the originals are in Delft anymore). Upstairs the museum had recreated his studio and we could pretend we were in one of his works. Then we read about his techniques and his use of light before going upstairs again to an exhibit on symbols of love in his paintings. The museum was closing shortly after we got there. We managed to see the bulk of the space, but didn’t get to spend much time in the hands-on section in the basement. It taught about his friends and Delft during his lifetime. We bought a map that took us on a Vermeer walking tour. We saw the church where he and his mother were buried as well as the house he grew up in, the house his father grew up in and the house he and his wife bought. Throughout the town there were cubes with information about his paintings and his life. The panel about “Girl With a Pearl Earring” inaccurately attributed the role of the girl to Colin Firth instead of Scarlet Johansson (Colin plays Vermeer). We had a good laugh reading that.

We then used one of our printed maps to take a Dutch East India Company (VOC) walking tour of Delft. We saw some buildings where VOC administrators lived as well as the main warehouse and office building. Delft, with is canals, was a really important city in its height. Today, it’s really charming and a great place to walk around. We wished we had come here earlier in the day, or at least that we had more energy, because it really was a tranquil, pretty place. People were sitting outside at plazas, relaxing and enjoying the day. It was a nice side trip outside Amsterdam.

Monday we woke up and took the tram to the Jordaan district, which was the poorer part of the city in the 1800s. Now, it’s full of galleries and fits in with the rest of hipster Amsterdam. We peaked into windows and walked through a flea market. We wandered around the canals trying to see into as many houseboats (really more like floating houses) as possible. Some were quite posh and really nicely decorated. Passing more trendy cafés, stores and galleries, we crossed the city and wound up in another flea market where we spent a few hours looking at old postcards trying to find places we’d been to or knew well. Then we sat at a café for a while. We found an awesome place serving bagels, coffee and fresh juices. I had a soy latte, while listening to John Mayer and Jack Johnson and using the internet….so homey.

The Rest of Paris

Wednesday, after breakfast, we walked to the Pompidou Center where we saw an exhibit on women artists as well as the national collection of modern art. The women artists exhibit was actually somewhat boring for us. Walking through, we found pieces we had seen in Istanbul and Barcelona, among other ones we had seen on separate occasions. The permanent collection was okay, some highlights were Duchamp’s ready-mades, which I had wanted to see. The best part about the museum was that we got to see some of Alexander Calder’s Circus. Most of his work (this is why we went to the Pompidou) was in a separate gallery that cost 9 euro to enter (we did not). However, some of the sketches, a few animal sculptures and a great video were in a section that we didn’t have to pay for. (Jess gets in for free because she’s an art student with an EU passport. I got into this one for free because I’m “Spanish” with an expired Spanish resident alien card – the woman clearly didn’t understand Spanish because the card says I’m actually a US citizen and not European at all.) I love Calder. I like the idea that he invented the mobile – the moving sculpture. No one else did it before him, or at least no one did it like he did until he did. He mainly used primary colors, as influenced by Mondrian, another of my faves. I’ve encountered his sculptures in various parts of the world, from Yale’s campus (Joe, it’s the one across from Silliman, in the courtyard of the building where the war memorial walls are located) to a street corner in Mallorca. The video of his Circus was awesome because imagine a rotund adult on the floor playing with wire and cloth toys that he’s made. Every now and then he blows a whistle to signify a new act and announces it in broken French. It’s great! The acts were hilarious and he thought of everything, down to the horse’s poop and it’s pooper scooper. He even had a stretcher for a fallen-dancer and his tightrope walkers really moved. Actually, everything really moved: horses galloped around the ring, trapeze artists swung, heavyweight champs lifted and a belly dancer swung her hips. I actually watched part of the movie while Jess was on the phone and then again with her.

Leaving the Pompidou Center, which is famous for having it’s “guts” on the outside, we crossed Les Halles and walked up the Rue St. Honore, stopping at Colette. This crazy store had a “Water Bar,” specializing in bottled water from around the world, in its basement. One the entrance floor they sell books, 3000 euro Tag Heuer cell phones, and other assorted junk you never knew you needed. Upstairs they had a photography exhibit (mostly celebrity portraits) and clothing which is also somewhat of a temporary art exhibit. All the clothing and the pictures are for sale. The clothing is arranged in outfits on mannequins. You can try stuff on, but you have to ask a salesperson to go in the back and find it for you. This store is somewhere Joe and I went last time we were here and Jess enjoyed it as well.

Next we hung out in the Jardin du Tulleries. We sat in front of a Lictenstein statue because we had seen another one in Barcelona. Then we walked the Champs Elysee and had tea at La Duree. Actually I had tea and meringues and Jess had hot chocolate and macaroons (dark chocolate, salted caramel, blackcurrant, and rose petal). We walked to the Arc de Triumph which had a huge, Bosphorus Bridge sized flag in its center, and then the Eiffel Tower.

Finally, on the way back to the hostel, we went to Picard: a frozen food store. Everything they sell is frozen: meals, desserts, macaroons, bread, veggies, fruit, meats, fish, rice, soup, guacamole, sashimi. I bought rice and veggies; Jess got a pasta, salmon, sauce pre-made dinner. We came back to the hostel and ate it. Last time I was in Paris, I had really wanted to buy something and have it for dinner, but we didn’t have a microwave. I’m glad I go to experience Picard this time around. The rice was frozen individually, rather than in clumps like when I freeze it.

Thursday morning we went to the Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise where we saw the graves of many famous people including Guillaume Apollinere, Proust, Gertrude Stein, Edith Piaf, Theodore Gericault and, of course, Oscar Wilde. His grave was covered with lipstick kisses left by his many dedicated fans. After wandering the cemetery for a while, we walked toward Bastile. We went to the Place de Vosges, one of the oldest plazas in the city, where we ate a picnic lunch while watching a huge water fight break out. French tweens ran through the park hurling bottles of water at each other and narrowly missing the unsuspecting tourists dining on the grass. It looked like a lot of fun, and we didn’t mind the craziness. Some people yelled at the kids; others just got up and moved away.

Victor Hugo, author of Les Miserables and Hunchback of Notre Dame, used to live on the plaza. His apartment is now a free museum, so we went to check it, and its bathroom, out. The museum was okay. Most of it was comprised of rooms of pictures and busts of him. One floor was decorated with period furniture. Next we walked across the river. We wandered through the streets between the Marais and the Seine, stopping at a store called “Thanksgiving.” It sold American food. Real American food; imported-from-America American food. We’re talking Ocean Spray cranberry sauce (4.95 euros), marshmallow fluff – regular and strawberry (5.90 euro), marshmallows (3 euro for a tiny bag), and cans of frosting (6.90 euro). It also had baking mixes, turkey basters, tons of jello and peanut butter. This store was made for homesick ex-pats or people attempting to make Thanksgiving dinner while abroad. I’ll be home in a month, so I resisted buying anything (and bought marshmallows in Amsterdam instead).

We walked around the Latin Quarter and the St. Germain area, stopping so Jess could fulfill a Fasian (fake-Asian) craving with sesame-free sesame chicken (called chicken in caramel sauce) and rice. I got some cabbage salad. Then we walked back towards the hostel. Along the way we decided to go shopping because there were really big sales going on throughout the city. We wandered the narrow streets of the Marais. I tried on some clothes, but didn’t like any of it. We bought chopsticks and I finally got a hairbrush, which I’ve needed since mine broke in Scotland (the second time we were there – but really it started breaking in Barcelona). We walked back to the hostel and hung out there before catching our overnight bus to Amsterdam.

Rouen and on to Paris!

The next morning we walked to the see the cathedral in daylight. We went inside it; it’s gothic and didn’t have too much interesting stuff inside. There was a poster about WWII damages, which were minimal. We walked to another plaza in Rouen where we saw the spot where Joan of Arc was executed. It’s marked by red and orange flowers. It’s also right outside a church which was built in the 1970s. The church looks like a boat and its roof is part of the roof of an adjacent market. The stained glass windows were much older than the church and Jess explained them to me (in terms of technique, etc.). Then we took another awesome train and were off to Paris!

We dumped our stuff in the hostel and headed toward the Ile de la Cite to see Notre Dame and St. Chapelle. St. Chapelle was the one touristy thing I couldn’t do last time I was here. It was closed the few times I tried to go. It was built as a private chapel for Louis IX. It’s actually two chapels in one, but the lower one is far less interesting. The upper chapel is basically a stained-glass lover’s paradise. There are 15 stained glass windows with more than 1,000 scenes depicted. There are also more than 100 painted columns with different foliage-inspired capitals. The chapel is not particularly large, but it’s not miniscule either. Light enters the room and the stained glass windows become as bright as candy. This was the one place in Paris that I had studied in art history class and really wanted to see. I’m glad I finally got to see it the second time around.

Crossing the Seine, we arrived in the St. Michel area and went to Shakespeare and Co., a fabulous English bookstore. We didn’t stay long because it was too tempting to buy everything there. Next we walked through the St. Germain area and went to Assouline, another amazing bookstore. It was easier to visit this one because the books are too large to carry in our backpacks and way too expensive to purchase. The store is arranged as if you are in someone’s personal library. We finished up our tour of the other side of the Seine with a visit to the Jardin du Luxembourg, where my French-book characters would eat lunch during breaks from their classes at La Sorbonne. We spent time watching people play tennis, then walked by the fountains and headed towards the river.

On our way back towards the hotel, we passed many theaters and people going in to see plays. We stopped to see what one theater was showing: an operetta called Pastorale. We impulsively bought student tickets for 15 euro and went to the opera! Everything was in French, so we’re not 100 percent sure what we saw. We do know that the “sets” were awesome because they weren’t traditional sets at all. Instead they were video projections. Guy in hoodies had video cameras on either side of the stage. Sometimes they filmed a mini-scene– like rocks in a pool of water or a diorama of a castle. Other times they filmed a person or paint dripping down a vertical board. They used three smaller screens in addition to a backdrop screen and, sometimes, a screen in front of the actors. One of the funnier “sets” was a countryside scene where a character was meant to be walking. She was on a treadmill in the center of the stage, walking slowly. There were three people with sheep puppets moving around in front of her. On the side screens, video was projected of the puppets. The center screen projected a feed of wooden sheep being moved along a table by another guy, off to the side of the stage. The company also used cameras when people were lying down, like in a bed. These cameras were placed above the actors, giving the audience a bird’s eye view. All in all, I was surprised at how much I was able to understand by reading the sub-titles, but was frustrated that I couldn’t understand everything. The show seemed to be about a guy in love with a girl but she’s with his brother. The guy then almost drowns in a stream, is saved by three crazy nurses and brought to a castle/tower. He’s imprisoned by a weird guy in all white, including white platform shoes and white hair, who controls most of the characters. The white guy than makes our lover dress like a girl to become friends with the girl he lusts after. They wind up in bed together, as two girls, she finds out, freaks and kicks him out. The girl (the real girl, not the guy pretending to be a girl) then dies, end story. Needless to say, it was a different night: a bit out of the norm.

Cruisin' around Normandy-part three

Monday morning we woke up, had breakfast and started our drive up to Carentan, a strategically important city in between Omaha and Utah beaches. When we arrived, we found ourselves in the middle of a farmers’ market. We walked around the town, visiting the church there, and doing some shopping. Then we took our lunch and went to Utah Beach. At the beach, we found remnants of some bunkers and a sculpture made out of sand. We ate our lunch – veggies, cheese, bread (for Jess) and fruit. Then we walked around the memorials and into a bunker set up as a memorial. There was also a museum there and several tanks and guns. The beach was strange because it was warm out and, in our minds, there should have been people there sunbathing and swimming. However, these beaches attract a different kind of tourism.

Driving through a bird reserve, we wound up back near Carentan and we hopped on the highway and went to Pont du Hoc, another American-run memorial site. It’s located right between Utah and Omaha Beaches, so it was a really important place during the D-Day invasion. Here, US Rangers landed and scaled the cliffs to attack this German stronghold. We could see some gun batteries and a bunker, but the most impressive part of the site was the craters left behind by cannon attacks. This cliff-top area was covered by them.

We had some time left and decided to return to the American Cemetery to see the Visitor’s Center. On the way we passed by the western part of Omaha Beach where we turned-off the road to see a bridge used to connect a mulberry with the beach. Mulberries were the two man-made ports constructed to allow for the goods, cars and men to disembark the boats. These were not put into place until a few weeks after June 6^th and they were destroyed by bad weather and storms.

Once we looked at the beach and saw where the mulberries had been, we jumped in the car and drove back to the American cemetery to see the visitors’ center. Passing through the metal detectors (this is a slice of America after all), we were inside the low building. Most of the exhibit was actually underground allowing for minimal intrusion into the surrounding landscape. The exhibit showed items used during the war, things like bandages and canteens, as well as quotes from soldiers and a movie about some of the fallen soldiers. The end was filled with stories of men (each on a separate placard) and included both survivors and “sacrifices.” They were arranged in four groups of four around a round room with light entering in the center. The center was a powerful testament to the lives of these men and I wish we had more time there to really look around.

We had calculated enough time to get from the center to Rouen without traffic. However, upon arriving in Caen, we were suddenly in a bumper-to-bumper, parking-lot style back up. I’m pretty sure there had been a strike or demonstration somewhere, and as we sat on the highway, it became apparent that there had been an accident. Jess couldn’t make our cell phones call French numbers (mine won’t text the US either), so we got off the highway and drove toward the rental agency’s Caen office. On the way, we had to get gas because we chose to return the car with a full tank (saving 30 euro – they would have filled the car for 60 euro and gas only cost us 30!). I pumped the gas, then went inside, told the man which pump I had used (in French), paid and got directions to the train station – IN FRENCH!!! The directions matched what Jessica had already plotted on our very limited maps. We got to the agency, dropped the car off and hopped on a train to Rouen.

French trains really are something to write home about. They’re clean and bright and shiny and I got really excited about them. Jess was pretty non-plused. She’d been on even nicer trains, but I hadn’t. On the one from Rouen to Paris, I sat on the equivalent of a couch with an outlet for my laptop. We got to Rouen at around 9pm, but it was still light out so we could see the Cathedral de Notre Dame which Monet painted 30 times. We also walked to the Seine and crossed a bridge with statues of explorers on it. Rouen is a small city/large town in Normandy. It’s pretty touristy because of the cathedral and it’s also where Joan of Arc was killed.

Cruisin' around Normandy-part two

Sunday morning we woke up and had breakfast. Jess had cereal, bread and a croissant. I had fruit and rice cakes. We both had eggs, which were served to us in eggcups. I used my hands and ate the egg the way I had been taught – cracking it on the table – and Jess used the eggcup. We also had homemade jams: rhubarb and blueberry. We got into the car and drove to Mont St. Michel, a rock off the coast of Normandy/Brittany. It’s an interesting piece of land because it’s surround by quicksand and experience really dramatic tides, which sometimes put the parking lot under water.

As soon as we got there, we went straight to the top, to the Abbey. It’s built on a spot where a church has been since the eighth century. From the abbey we could see mainland France, the marshy land surrounding the mont, and a few islands. One of the islands was so close that people were walking there. The tide was way out and they were crossing the quicksand flats to get to the island. (Note: No, mom, we did not do this. These people were in tour groups.)

After descending from the abbey, we ate lunch on a terrace. We both tried the apple cider which comes from the region – it wasn’t sweet and had a light taste. Jess ordered moules marinere (muscles) and I ordered oysters! My oysters were unlike others I had tasted before – much less gritty and not really salty. Jess’s muscles were tasty. She had been given a small fork and I hadn’t been given anything other than the big fork for a meal. Both of us were struggling slightly. The older woman who had been waiting on us noticed this and came and took my fork away. As she was walking away, I laughed and the younger waitress, upon seeing her co-worker literally steal my fork, rolled her eyes and sighed. The older waitress then took Jessica’s form and taught her how to properly eat muscles in France: you take one muscle’s shell and use it to pinch the muscle out of another shell. Basically one shell becomes a set of tweezers for the rest of the meal.

After lunch, we walked through some of the quicksand. Neither of us had ever encountered it before and we could see how an army would have trouble getting across it to capture the mont. I didn’t immediately sink when I stepped on the quicksand – I didn’t sink at all – but getting out of it was slightly challenging.

We left and drove around the coast, passing through Avromanches, which was one of the final cities the US army captured in securing the thumb of Normandy. From there we headed north finally stopping in Granville. The coastal drive was pleasant, there were views of the bay and the towns were quaint. In one of them, I got stuck behind a horse-and-buggy. Granville was larger. There we parked near the lighthouse and saw more gun batteries. We walked into town through the medieval part of the city and then down to the more modern section. We found another music/street fair and walked around listening to various concerts. This time we were pretty close to the B and B and had no trouble getting there.

Cruisin' around Normandy-part one

We made it to Bayeux a little after 9am. We went first to see the tapestry, just beating the tour groups. The Bayeux Tapestry is a 70-meter long embroidery sewn in the 1000s just after the Battle of Normandy during which William the Conqueror took over rule of England. The tapestry, which was originally hung in the cathedral, tells the history of that battle. We were given audio guides to listen to as we walked around the tapestry following the story. After seeing it, we went upstairs and watched a movie about it. The movie told how it was made: using ten colors and four stitches. It also ended with a comment about how William conquered England, but his descendents returned hope to help France in her time of need (D-Day).

Bayeux was one of the only towns not directly effected by Germany bombings and the D-Day landings. This is intriguing because it’s basically halfway between Carentan and Caen, both of which were important cities that the Allies struggled to recapture. This means that Bayeux maintains its old buildings and small downtown area free of ruin. We walked around a bit before stopping for some much-needed coffee and a macaroon for Jessica. She got one that was raspberry flavored and had custard, cream and raspberries in the middle. She said it was delicious. Macaroons are a wheat-free dream, except they’re made with almonds, so I can’t eat them.

After our mid-morning snack, we headed to the War Museum where we saw a comprehensive exhibit on the D-Day landings. The big museum is in Caen and would have taken us half a day to see (and cost way too much). This museum gave us a feeling for the events in the area. There was a lot of reading involved, but it was interesting, and there was a section on journalism during the war. In addition, we could see some old guns, tanks, and a jeep, as well as gear (which was behind glass cases). We also watched a movie about the landing. The movie ended with the same sentiment as the other one – the British decedents of William the Conqueror returned home. This is in reference to the British war cemetery which is located in Bayeux.

We left Bayeux and drove to Longes Sur Mer where we visited a German Batterie. The Germans built cement structures to house their huge guns. These cement structures, which without the gun almost look like mini theaters, can be found dotting the coast of Normandy. Longes Sur Mer has four of them and they’re mostly intact. There was also a lookout/command post we could go inside. From it, we got a feeling for what it would have been like to be standing there watching the water as the Allies were attacking. After touring the site, we took the car down the cliff to the beach below and walked around it. The beach was small and this was not one of the five landing beaches. It was also very rocky.

We drove west toward the American Cemetery, which is maintained by an American organization. America owns that piece of land, along with a few other pockets of land in Normandy and all over the world. The cemetery overlooks Omaha Beach. We arrived too late to see the visitors’ center, so we walked towards the gravestones. About 9,000 men are buried there. Their graves are marked by marble crosses and Stars of David. There is a monument at one end, a chapel in the middle and some statues at the far end of the space. The monument has maps showing where the Americans fought and how the battle progressed. Adjacent to it, there is a rose garden where the names of the dead are listed on the walls. We were there as it was closing and “America the Beautiful” was playing as we were walking out. It’s a really peaceful place and it’s also well maintained.

From Istanbul, I had booked us a bed and breakfast to stay in during our tour of Normandy. We had the directions and had located it on the map. We decided to get dinner in St. Lo, one of the larger towns, which had been completely demolished during the battle. When we arrived, the main street was closed because there was a music/street fair going on. We parked and went off in search of food. Most carts were selling sausages (hotdog style – in a bun) and fries. We found a little shop where I bought some brie, a tomato, and some mushrooms. Then Jess got a sausage and we got some fries to split. Brie and fries make a surprisingly good combination. The brie gets a little melted and gooy on top of the warm fries.

After dinner, we had a hard time getting to the B and B because we didn’t know how to get out of St. Lo. Many of the streets were closed and I picked the wrong exit. Luckily Jess is great with a map and could figure out another route to take. We wound up on small back roads which were only wide enough for one car. I whizzed along and eventually we made it to the B and B, which was run by a British couple: June and Colin. They showed us to our room and asked if we needed anything. They were surprised that two young girls just wanted to sleep. We explained our trip and they understood.

Leaving Istanbul and Getting to France

We woke up early Friday morning to leave Istanbul and return to Western Europe. We had pre-arranged a transfer for 7:30am; our flight left at 10:30. The guy was a few minutes late, but that was okay. However, the van he had could barely go about 20 km/hr without shaking and he didn’t seem too keen to driving it. We stopped in front of the train station (on the old European side of the city). He told us we’d be there for five minutes, which was NOT okay with us, but there was nothing we could say/do. Anyway, five minutes later a bigger van arrived and we go into that one and sped off to the airport. The airport we were using (the one in Asia) was pretty sketchy. We got there at 8:45 for a 10 am flight. As soon as we arrived, we got in the line that said “London Stansted.” Check-in was taking forever. We’re not really sure why. As soon as we queued, we could hear announcements that our flight should go through immigration. Then, more announcements about how we should be going through security. People didn’t seem to be rushing anywhere and we were still stuck in this line (which wasn’t even that long). Finally we checked-in and headed toward immigration where we had to wait on another short line. (Note: the lines were short everywhere, but took forever.) We could see security and the four gates as soon as we stepped through immigration. The airport was really tiny. We boarded our plane and took off (late) for London.

Upon arriving in London, we attempted to disembark, but were told to remain seated. The British immigration police had boarded our plane and were questioning two young Turkish guys a few rows ahead of me. The guys had no clue what was going on and finally the police asked if anyone else had been sitting in that row. The British tourists around the row told the police that a man had just changed seats and was now sitting a few rows ahead. The police located him, took one look at his passport and got him off the plane. As we filed off the plane, we had to show our passports to police officers before heading toward the airport terminal.

Once near immigration, I powered-walked ahead to get through before the Turkish passengers. Jess split off from me and headed towards the EU lines, which are always longer, but move faster. I was a bit worried because I didn’t have an address in the UK and had written that I would be in the country for 12 hours. In Glasgow I had to answer more questions, but here in London, the guy didn’t seem to care.

We got our bags and took a bus to Victoria Coach Station. There were tons of Spanish people on the bus and it was hilarious (for me) to listen to their comments. They thought the Tower of London was someone’s house. Once at Victoria, we went to a health food store where I stocked up on cookies, rice cakes, soy milk, ginger chews, and other snack foods. Then we went to Sainsbury’s Local and I bought salsa, salad and marshmallows. Finally we headed back to the coach station and ate our lunch/dinner/snacks.

I had to use the bathroom at the coach station but didn’t have any sterling to pay for it. I took some Euros and asked the attendant if I could use them. She was somewhat amused by my request and demanded to know why I didn’t have sterling. I told her that I was just passing through London. She wanted the details of my trip and was confused as to why I would go to Turkey if I wasn’t Turkish. She enjoyed hearing the details of my trip and told me I could just push through the wheelchair gate. I was really happy I asked first and didn’t just jump the turnstile, because as I was using the bathroom I could hear her yelling at someone for having done that.

We boarded our bus and I promptly passed out. We arrived at the ferry port in Portsmouth a few hours later where we checked in for our boat. There were tons of people waiting to board a two-night ferry to Bilbao including a bachelorette party who practically boarded with their glasses of beer. There were also several school groups and an American student tour in the waiting area. We missed the announcement to board the boat and were confused when the waiting room was suddenly empty. There were two boats leaving at the same time and many of the passengers were out with their cars. I went for a walk around the room and asked some guys in yellow vests. At this point, it was about 10:15 at night and I had been awake since 6:30 Turkish time (4:30 UK time). They thought it was hilarious that I seemed pretty blasé that most of our boat had boarded. We did, in fact, have plenty of time. They weren’t closing the boarding gate for another 30 minutes. Also, we weren’t the last people on the boat. When we walked over to the gate, a group of ten people stood up and followed us there.

The boat was really nice. It’s an overnight ferry (and it gets used on other overnight lines) so there were cabins for people with money. We were sitting in the reclining seat lounge, as opposed to the groups who had airplane seats. The seats were comfortable, but I would have preferred sleeping on the floor, which many people were doing. (There were a lot of people who clearly take this boat often: they brought sleeping bags, mats and pillows and knew exactly where the best couches and floor space could be found.) There was a bar, an arcade room, a nice restaurant, a buffet, a cafeteria, shops and two movie rooms. There were also several decks and lookout areas. We didn’t really use any of those spaces and just went to sleep.

In France, we had to go through immigration. The guy who took my passport had some difficulty finding space to stamp it. He made a comment about my liking to travel and let me into the country. Then we took a bus from Oistream to Caen where we had hired a rental car. We arrived in Caen 40 minutes before the agency opened, so we waited in the train station. Our car was a Ford C-Max, a little four-door with awful blind spots. We had a difficult time getting out of Caen – I’m pretty sure I was in the taxi/bus lane for a while by the station, but it was 8:30 on a sleepy Saturday, so it didn’t matter.

Istanbul!

On our first day in Turkey, we started in Sultanahmet, the neighborhood where our hotel was located. After breakfast, we walked up to the Blue Mosque which we could see from the roof of the hotel. The hotel breakfasts were large: half a loaf of bread, butter, jam, cheese, olives, tomato, cucumber, a hard-boiled egg and the tea/coffee assortment. I made grits each morning (instant, with hot water) and ate Jess’s portion of the tomato along with my own (which means I ate a whole tomato!). At the Blue Mosque, we had to take our shoes off and make sure our shoulders and chests were covered. My short-sleeved shirt was a v-neck, so I covered up with the fabric scrap.

This was the first time that I was inside a mosque. In Morocco I had been inside a few medrasas and in Sarajevo, my mom and I were able to enter the courtyard of a mosque, but as a non-Muslim, I had not been able to enter. The Blue Mosque is set up for tourism and many people were there visiting it. Inside the mosque was very large: the domed ceiling was probably six or seven stories above our heads, supported by four columns, which were probably 20-25 feet in circumference. The floors were carpeted (which is why we had to take our shoes off) because when Muslims pray, they have to bend over and bow on the ground. We were restricted to a visiting space about 40 feet from the quibbla, which had stained-glass windows behind it.

Leaving the Mosque, we headed towards the Grand Bazaar, stopping first to indulge in some Turkish ice cream. This was unlike any other ice cream I had ever eaten: it wasn’t really cold, it wasn’t soft or hard, and it wasn’t creamy. Instead, it was chewy. Yes, chewy. It almost tasted like a slightly softer, slightly colder taffy. It wasn’t super chewy, but you couldn’t lick it. People serve it by using a spade/paddle and cutting off a chunk then dumping it in a cone. When the ice cream and the spade are still connected, the cone can be spun upside down and everything stays in place.

The Grand Bazaar is like a New Jersey shopping mall housed in an old building with large black and white soccer flags hanging everywhere. However, the stores are arranged like those in the Moroccan and Israeli souks: everyone selling the same thing gathers together in one area. Sof, if you are interested in leather, for example, you just have to go to the leather area and everyone selling leather is conveniently located in the same aisle. This is actually how most of the shopping in Istanbul is set up. Very near to our hotel, we found a street with stores selling art supplies and stationary. Other sections were musical instruments and car stereos.

The bazaar was pretty busy and we didn’t stay that long. Instead, we headed across the Galata Bridge to the newer European side of Istanbul. The Galata Bridge crosses the Golden Horn, which is a river that feeds into the Bosphorus (which divides Europe and Asia). This means there are three parts of Istanbul: the Asian side (where our plane arrived), the newer European side, and the older European side (where we were staying). The Galata Bridge is the closest Golden Horn bridge to the Bosphorus, a 20 minute walk from our hotel.

The blue bridge is multi-leveled. The upper level is for cars. The lower level houses restaurants and bars, but only on the parts closer to land. In the center, you have to go up to the car level so as to leave enough space for boats to pass underneath. The restaurants and bars all sell the same things: fish fish and more fish! We never ate at them, but the waiters talked to us as we passed by.

On the other side of the Galata Bridge, we walked up the hill, passed the Galata Tower and into the Tünel neighborhood. Along this road is where the juice guys hang out. There were five or six stands selling fresh squeezed juice and I’m pretty sure I had at least one glass a day. (Thinking more about it….I did. I had one glass of grapefruit juice each day.)

From Tünel, we followed the tram tracks and Istiklal Street to Taksim, the large, central plaza in the newer European part of Istanbul. The street is full of shopping: lots of big names and international brands. We went into an English-language bookstore and looked around without buying anything. (We went back later and bought stuff though.)

On our way back across the bridge we stopped for some “fish bread.” Three docked boats serve up sandwiches of lettuce, onion and half a grilled fish. You walk up to the boat, pay and get your sandwich then go sit down on little tables in front of the boat. I used my fork to eat the fish off my sandwich. It was tasty and the ambiance was great: we were outside in the sun surrounded by tons of people.

Tuesday, day two, we went to the Aya Sofia, the building which served as our reason for going to the city in the first place. We had both studied it in our art history classes and both of us were dying to see it. It was originally built as a church in the 4^th century. Justinian rebuilt it in the 6^th century as the largest church in the world. In 1453, when the Mehmed II conquered the city, the church was converted into mosque. Atatürk turned it into a museum in the 1930s, which is why we were able to visit it today. It is a huge building Inside, it was dark with high ceilings. We were able to go up to the second floor where we could see some of the original Byzantine mosaics. Everything about the building was enormous. The floors were marble slabs, some 15 feet in length. The doors were absolutely huge, probably 25-30 feet high. I’m really glad I finally got to see the building after all these years.

Next up on our tour of the city was a cruise down the Bosphorus. We boarded a boat and sailed by palaces, the Bosphorus bridge (connecting Europe and Asia), coastal neighborhoods, a fortification wall (on the European side) and yahs, which are privately-owned summer residences (aka mansions). We really wanted to see these because we both read Istanbul: Memories of the City by Orhan Pamuk and he talked a lot about the yahs. During his childhood (the 60s and into the 70s), many of the wooden yahs went up in flames. There are still some today, but they’re next to brand-new concrete structures. Some of the mansions were quite opulent, having things like parking places for yachts and such.

The cruise lasted 90 minutes. Afterwards, we went to the Spice Market (aka the Egyptian Bazaar), bought some fruit and juice and walked back to the hotel. At the market we tried a fruit which looked like a white blackberry. It didn’t really taste like anything and made my mouth pinch, so didn’t buy any. The other fruit Jess got to taste was like a green nectarine. It was smaller than a normal nectarine and green like a Granny Smith apple. I couldn’t try it because I knew I would be allergic. The guy tried to give me on and I had to explain my allergies. He told me not to eat it because, “this would be dangerous for you.”

Wednesday morning we went back to the Blue Mosque to take some more pictures. Afterwards we went to the Topkapi Palace where the sultans lived and ruled from 1462 until the 19^th century (when they moved to another palace). We wandered through chambers and treasuries containing the sultans’ jewels and gifts. One case in particular was striking because it contained a jewelry box full of emeralds. The sign next to it said something to the tune of, “emeralds.” It was as if having a case of emeralds was totally normal. The views from the palace were striking: one one side there was a view of the Bosphorus, while the other side showed the Golden Horn and the newer parts of European Istanbul.

After our tour around the palace, we went and met up with Nicki for coffee. She and I had interned together a few summers ago. She lives in Istanbul now and works as a correspondent for an online media outlet. She took us to a place where they make amazing Turkish coffee. It almost tasted like chocolate, which was unexpected. Turkish coffee is made in a way that the grinds are still in the cup. It sounds like it would be disgusting, but it’s actually quite delicious, and this one was especially good. After coffee we walked back to Nicki’s apartment. She lives in a five story walk-up just across from the Galata Tower. She has three balconies and a view of all the major monuments in the city, and both rivers.

After relaxing on her balcony for a while, Jess and I went to a restaurant she had recommended. It was on the sixth floor at an unmarked entrance. She had told us to just go in and take the elevator; when we came out, we were in the restaurant. They had menus in English, but it seemed like we were the only people there who needed them. The waiter was really helpful and studied my allergy paper several times and spoke to the chef. We tried raki which is a fruit-based liquor kind of like grappa, but stronger and anis flavored. You have to dilute it to drink it, which we did. I ordered fried eggplant with yogurt sauce and Jess got a cassarole of potatoes, mushrooms, peppers, and cheese. We also split grilled trout which came with more potatoes and veggies. Everything was delicious. After dinner we walked back across the Galata Bridge and saw the city lit up.

For our last day in Istanbul, we went to the Istanbul Modern, an art museum featuring contemporary works predominantly by Turkish artists. I wasn’t overwhelmed by the Turkish artists, but did find some works pleasing and interesting. My favorite exhibit – I think the artist was Danish – was a series of photographs of people’s apartments. The photographer went to the all the apartments in one building and photographed their living rooms to show the similarities and differences between them. She did this in several cities and arranged the photos accordingly. As I walked through, I tried to imagine which apartment I would live in. The other thing I liked at the museum was the library. An artist had taken books and suspended them from the ceiling with wire. The books were meant to be a selection of European and Asian titles to show the dual-influence on the city.

For lunch we ate Doner kebab. Meat or chicken is cooked on a vertical rotisserie and then shaved off and put into a pita with pickles and tomatoes. I chose chicken but couldn’t finish it, so Jess ate the rest. I thought I could just eat the chicken out of my kebab, but I wasn’t really that into it. It made me feel a little nauseous.

On our way back down to the Galata Bridge, we walked by the Neve Shalom Synagogue, the largest in Istanbul. It was built in 1951 and sustained a terrorist attach in 1986 and a car bomb during a Bar Mitzvah in 2003. The building was closed and only marked by Stars of David on its window grates.

For our last night we ate dinner out. I ordered more fried eggplant and a stuffed eggplant (with peppers, onions, and zucchini). Yes, I was craving eggplant. Jess got a salad with chicken and she ate this huge puffy bread thing we had seen all over the city. Imagine a giant, oval-shaped pita which is hallow inside. We went back to the hotel to prepare our stuff for leaving.

We want to write Orhan (Pamek) some criticisms, namely the dogs vs. cats thing. He had written about the plethora of wild dogs running through the streets of the city, but we counted many more cats than dogs. We’re not sure if this is because we were mostly on the older European side and he lived on the newer one. Also, he talked about the melancholy of Istanbul and we saw it as much more alive than melancholic. This may be because we were there in the summertime.

I also forgot to mention the grilled corn. You can get boiled or grilled corn on many street corners. Because corn is a safe food for me I had it every day. It was cheap and made a great snack. As a result, I am sick of corn.

Getting To Istanbul

It took us all day to get to Istanbul. We woke up at 6:45, ate breakfast, and tidied up the boat before catching an 8am bus to Victoria Station where we found a mini-riot at the bus platform. The 8am bus to the airport had broken down and the guys in charge were not. They were trying to make people queue up, but it wasn’t working. We got onto a bus at 8:40 (we had 8:30 tickets, so this wasn’t that bad) and set off through London and East London. Along the way, we stopped because a girl threw up on the bus. Luckily we were towards the back and didn’t have to deal with the smell. At the airport we checked-in, and tried to get money out of an ATM. The ATMs were really temperamental and Jess’s bank had frozen her account. I was finally able to get some pounds to change them to euros to pay for our hotel here, but it was a frustrating endeavor. We went through security and into the waiting lounge.

Inside, I went to Starbucks to see if they had free wifi (they didn’t) and I asked about gluten-free desserts. They had a dairy-free, gluten-free Belgian chocolate cake, but it had nuts. I was so happy they had something and then so let down to find out it contained nuts. This has been happening to me often: in Dublin with the cupcakes, in other Starbucks where the only wheat-free stuff has oats and nuts, and at Edinburgh castle where the chocolate cake had nuts. I am able to buy cookies at health-food stores, but they’re pretty expensive and they’re not chocolate cake. I’m going to have to develop a recipe/find something in Tel Aviv.

So we took the airport shuttle to out terminal and found it completely deserted. It was also 20 degrees hotter than the other part of the airport. After a while, more people started to show up and finally the airline workers arrived. We were the only flight out of this terminal. It’s because we were flying Pegasus Airlines instead of Ryanair or Easy Jet like most of the flights at Stanstead.

On the plane, the flight attendants immediately started rambling to me in Turkish. I told them I only spoke English and they quickly switched. They handed us a medical form which we were told to fill out. It asked us where we had been recently and if we had come into contact with anyone who could potentially have swine flu. We were required to provide our seat number on the plane and contact details in Turkey. We filled out the forms and returned them to the attendants.

At the airport, we had to pay a visa fee and then go through immigration – not a big deal at all. More people (other passengers) tried to talk to me in Turkish and got quite discouraged when I had no clue what they were saying. We got our bags and walked through customs. We tried again to get cash at the ATM. This time, my American card wouldn’t give me money because I had taken out so much in the UK. Jess called her bank and they said they would remove her hold, but then the guy didn’t do it properly so she had to call again. Luckily, my temperamental, Tesco-hating Spanish card actually pulled through and worked here, so we got some cash and took a city bus to the ferry. We landed in Asia and had to take a ferry across the Bosphorus to get to our hotel, which is in Europe. From the boat we could see the sun setting behind the Aya Sofia and Blue Mosque which are practically next to our hotel.

We walked from the ferry to our hotel. Turkey is similar to the old part of Sarajevo, which makes sense because the Ottoman Empire extended all the way to Bosnia. There are tram-tracks through this part of the city and lots of shops and restaurants. We got to the hotel and pretty much crashed. I used the internet and washed clothing; Jess watched TV and read. We’re finally in Istanbul!