Much of my last three full days in Istanbul has already been documented:
-I took three days of lessons with Ahmet.
-I went to see shows at Kervanseray and Istanbul In.
( August 14 and 15. )
Much of my last three full days in Istanbul has already been documented:
-I took three days of lessons with Ahmet.
-I went to see shows at Kervanseray and Istanbul In.
( August 14 and 15. )
August 16th, My last full day in Istanbul , my last lesson with Ahmet, and seeing Sema again.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=137290&id=644629953&l=d6ec884c4f
I’d been saving the Blue Mosque for last...mosques in general for last..tthey’re free, you know.
I set my alarm for 5:30, knowing that Mosques are open at all hours (although they will bar tourists during prayer time). I awoke at 5:30 and cursed my foolishness. I reset my alarm for a reasonable time.
After breakfast I headed to the Blue Mosque. I was walked there, and entertained while in line, by a Turkish man named Sirkan. He started the conversation, as I walked by, by telling me he liked my shoes and wanted to know where they were from..
This was absurd. I have many great shoes, but my very brown Sketchers are not great. They are great to wear while traveling, but they are not conversation fodder. Still, I was in a good mood and allowed for my conversation by replying that they were from Japan.
Like Kasper Gutman, I’ll tell you right out, I am a man who likes talk to a man who likes to talk.
…Except I’m not a man.
I was up front about not having any money to spend on anything and plans in the evening, and an airplane waiting for me the next afternoon…but Sirhan enjoyed my company and walked and talked with me. I explained how it was I’d come to buy shoes in Japan.
“Here’s to plain speaking and clear understanding.”
( Almost done )
August 16th, My last full day in Istanbul , my last lesson with Ahmet, and seeing Sema again.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=137290&id=644629953&l=d6ec884c4f
I’d been saving the Blue Mosque for last...mosques in general for last..tthey’re free, you know.
I set my alarm for 5:30, knowing that Mosques are open at all hours (although they will bar tourists during prayer time). I awoke at 5:30 and cursed my foolishness. I reset my alarm for a reasonable time.
After breakfast I headed to the Blue Mosque. I was walked there, and entertained while in line, by a Turkish man named Sirkan. He started the conversation, as I walked by, by telling me he liked my shoes and wanted to know where they were from..
This was absurd. I have many great shoes, but my very brown Sketchers are not great. They are great to wear while traveling, but they are not conversation fodder. Still, I was in a good mood and allowed for my conversation by replying that they were from Japan.
Like Kasper Gutman, I’ll tell you right out, I am a man who likes talk to a man who likes to talk.
…Except I’m not a man.
I was up front about not having any money to spend on anything and plans in the evening, and an airplane waiting for me the next afternoon…but Sirhan enjoyed my company and walked and talked with me. I explained how it was I’d come to buy shoes in Japan.
“Here’s to plain speaking and clear understanding.”
( Almost done )
August 17,
My last morning in Istanbul was here.
(once again the link for photos for day 7-10 http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=137290&id=644629953&l=d6ec884c4f )
I woke up, packed a little, and went up stairs to the breakfast-roof.
I looked out over all the other tourist hotels and hostels, at all the other tourists eating their breakfasts at their rooftop terraces, and past it to the water.
I love water.
I also love coffee, feta cheese, olive paste, tomatoes, grapes, bread, yogurt with honey, so all was good. I don’t love bees landing on my honey, but like the carpet men, it’s nothing personal. It’s what they do.
( My last morning: All signs bling to return. )
August 17,
My last morning in Istanbul was here.
(once again the link for photos for day 7-10 http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=137290&id=644629953&l=d6ec884c4f )
I woke up, packed a little, and went up stairs to the breakfast-roof.
I looked out over all the other tourist hotels and hostels, at all the other tourists eating their breakfasts at their rooftop terraces, and past it to the water.
I love water.
I also love coffee, feta cheese, olive paste, tomatoes, grapes, bread, yogurt with honey, so all was good. I don’t love bees landing on my honey, but like the carpet men, it’s nothing personal. It’s what they do.
( My last morning: All signs bling to return. )
