STREET SCENES, FOOD THE GRAND BAZAAR.

As I continue posting our trip to Turkey, the major attractions are a wonder to behold, but the street scenes and our surroundings also draw the eye, like this brass shoe shine stand in the hotel lobby. I was approached by a gypsy on the street with this very same piece of equipment. And I really needed my shoes polished, but we were on the move and we couldn’t stop on a street corner for me to have my shoes refreshed.

During our bus ride to the Turkish bath, Usla pointed out the recycler following the garbage truck. Joan Zucker pointed out that the garbage trucks play classical music while picking up garbage. Isn’t that a hoot?
A fancy birdcage greets us every morning in the hotel on our way to breakfast. The food changes somewhat every day, but the food buffets at our hotels, knock your socks off.

You can see fruit, yoghurt, honey, baklava, sausage, cucumbers, cheese, tomatoes, mushrooms, eggs, black and yellow apricots, raisins and at the back, strawberries, cereal.

Here we have olives, carab pods, garbanzo beans, nuts and marinated cheeses with herbs, rice and cereals. At the back is syrups and seasonings of all sorts and milk.

The cheeses are many and varied. You can see dried figs, beets, turkish delight, cashews, pomegranates, and parsley.

The juice bar.



The hot dishes, savory filled roles, egg dishes, stews and meats with rice and breads.

Of course there was turkish coffee, tea and water. We sat at tables that looked out through open windows on the beautiful Marmara Sea. This day was overcast, but other days were sunny. And one of those days a big gull came in and began eating off the plate of someone who left the table to get something else. And, as unbelievable as it sound, all breakfasts were like this one or better at our hotels.

And if you need a snack while you are out, you can always pick up a boiled egg from the lobby. This basket of eggs was about two and a half feet long. We don’t know if they were part of the wedding or what?

Yesterday, I posted Topkapi Museum? Immense color portraits of these interesting sultans in colorful garb don’t compare to these small black and white drawings in the lobby. It is the same inspiration we might find in our hotels or public buildings, a reminder of our great leaders with pictures of  Washington or Lincoln.

They kind of remind me of youthful meanderings after reading Arabian Nights, the romantic Calef riding across the desert with a sword by his side and rescuing the equally exotic princess.

They are just ordinary to the locals. Ahh, I know exotica and relish it when I see it.

But I dally. On to the Grand Bazaar, one of the oldest and largest covered outdoor markets in the world. It has 3,600 shops and 58 streets. They have categories, gold, silver jewelry, leather shops and so on. Here you can find anything you want.

Things made with Crystals.

Ceramics of great beauty.

You can find quality and glitz.

Or a tailor to hand make your clothing. Obviously this short man cannot buy clothing to fit off the rack.

And food in bulk, just like in the spice market.

When you buy these stuffed black and yellow cots, or hazlenut chocolate delights, they are packed in fancy boxes and make great gifts.

The main street is a wide avenue.

Owen and I wandered some of the smaller side streets and it is important to know your direction to get back to your original entrance. Owen bought a souvenir dagger, similar in size as the Topkapi dagger.  And, luckily he has a good sense of direction or I probably would still be wandering the bazaar.


I looked at textiles because cloth items are easier to carry in a suitcase. I wanted something with the famous tulips on them.

There were many choices.
I like scarves and the market had many scarf booths. I ended up here and bought three scarves for $400 after a lot of dickering. The merchant wanted his picture taken with us and gave us his card. I left there thinking to myself, did I really pay $400 for three scarves?
They are pretty persuasive salesmen. And the scarves are cashmere and silk. This one from the Mevlana area.

This one is Kurdish with two Moslem letters or words from the Ottoman Empire and sewn with some gold threads.

Cappadocia with a beautiful leaf repetitive pattern. They are of excellent quality and feel like velvet. Long enough to stretch from one side to the other of my queen sized bed.
I hope you are appreciating that so far, all my Turkey blogs, are excursions we made on our first day in the country. You can double-click on any of these pictures to enlarge them and arrow back to return to the blog. I hope you are enjoying taking this trip with Owen and me. And, I cannot find a spelling or definition for the word Calef that I believe is a word for a leader similar to a general or minor Sultan. If anyone can help me, please do. More tomorrow.

A COLD, GOLD DAY

Weather, these last weeks, has been shirt-sleeve summer.  Every day, we see  beautiful winter sunrises and sunsets at odds with warm days. Sqaw winter makes you crave the natural order of things; to do right by the trees, and grasses, and critters. Bears hanging low, refusing to hibernate. Birds haven’t a proper signal to  migrate. It’s all wrong.

Weather so dry I’ve had to water the yard lightly, so I decided its time to go gold hunting. It never takes much convincing to get Jan and Brian out looking for gold.  We arrived at what was a dry creek in the fall of  2010. Brian commented that we hadn’t considered the snow melt with this warm weather.

Not to be deterred, I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants, crossed over to a  promising area of gravel and loaded the bucket. The gravel was so wet and heavy, and I expect the bucket a bit weak,  the bottom fell out. I ended up washing the spill on the riffles of a rock. Not a smidge of color.

Jan spotted some old tailings. We checked the topography and found a spot where water had once gushed down this hill and filled a crevice with gravel. I went in with my trowel and reached for the gravel. Water invisibly clean and clear I didn’t even see until I touched it.  Beautiful gravel and good muck.

We brought three buckets. This time, I made sure I didn’t fill the bucket.

We drove around for several hours, stopping at various spots. At this place someone had placed a board to sit on and left a crevice tool and a linoleum slide. It was wet and tough to work.

We went to a popular panning spot under a bridge. The property owner had built a rock dam to catch  the gold before it ever got to the bridge. He built a dam, but it takes a tri-dam to be effective. Then he fenced it and posted no trespassing signs. What the owner probably knows is that no one owns a river. As long as you don’t walk above the high water mark, you aren’t trespassing. The signs discourage rubes, which we aren’t.

By this time, I was wet and cold. The gold eluded us but we got a taste of winter. On the way home we reflected on how the early miners slogged through creeks and winter melts and cursed their lot but never gave it up. They survived on the fever. We’re pikers.

RURAL AREAS HAVE THEIR CHARM, BUT...

Tales of happenings at the Murphys Hotel are legend. One that comes to mind was eulogized in a poem by my friend Glenn Wasson. I've included in part his poem, Too Much To Swallow:

One boisterous night in the Murphys Hotel
As patrons lined up at the bar
An event took place, too dubious to tell;
'Twas unseemly, gross and bizarre.

A miner walked in with an obvious grin
Ordering drinks for the roistering crowd.
The bar settled down to let him begin
Which he did with a manner quite proud.

From out of his pocket, a nugget he'd panned
Was placed where everyone saw
To be fondled and hefted in each heavy hand
An object of envy and awe.

As the drinkers inquired where the miner had dug it,
A patron slipped it into his beer,
Thinking,"I'll have me that nugget, I'll just chug-a-lug it"
And with a gulp made the piece disappear.

The barroom was stunned but the miner was cool;
From out of his belt came a knife.
He said, "Cough up the nugget, you guzzling fool
If you want to enjoy further life."

A three day transition from mouth to emission
Is a well-known medical fact,
Or so it was said by the local physician
Of a normal intestinal tract.

But three days passed by and he failed to expel
And this measurably heightened the tension.
A watch was put on the prisoner's cell,
Now the focus of growing attention.

I cannot unveil in graphic detail
The nugget's final appearance
Decorum in poetry must prevail
Lest we offend its cultured adherents.

But it came to pass on the seventh day
When the guard heard the prisoner shout,
"Unlock my cell; I'm on my way.
"That damnable nugget came out!


Glenn Wasson now owns the nugget