Istanbul Thrice: Sultana

It's the afternoon of our first full day in Istanbul. Outside the air is hot and dusty, filled with the sounds and smells of merchants and tourists plying their respective trades. The sun can be dazzling, and the traffic is terrifying. We've just left Haggia Sophia and I realize that I basically have no idea what to do next. I'm such a good planner, usually, but somehow on this trip I didn't get much further than booking a hotel and glancing at a map. When we decided to visit something called the Basilica Cistern, I was mostly hoping for a place to sit down. But when we followed the lines down below the ground, we found this:

 It felt suspiciously like stepping back in time as we descended the stairs to this place. The electric lights seemed to flicker like candles, or torches set just above the water line. Something about it seemed at once menacing and alluring. I had spent all that energy waiting for a time-warp thing in Scotland, and now boom, here it was. Only, I didn't order a trip back to Byzantium darlings.

 At least I got to take this guy with me. Doesn't he look good cerca 500 AD?

Also, this is totally the wrong outfit for a spot of time-travelling. Had I known the itinerary involved stepping back several hundred years, I would have worn less sensible shoes.

 Then Medusa showed up and was all "Girl, those shoes are ridiculous. Get yourself some strappy sandals, stat."

And then they made us their king.

Yes, I know. This blog is weak-sauce compared to the Scotland stuff. The thing is, while Istanbul was amazing, it just wasn't very....funny I guess. Also I haven't yet talked about the food, and as we all know, that's where my best writing material generally comes from. Not to worry, we had some seriously good eats later on.

A Black Friday Conversation

Him: "That kid looks like Harry Potter."

Me: "That's a middle-aged woman."

Him: "That woman looks like Harry Potter."

Well, another mad shopping day has come and gone. Mr. Awesome and I were such dedicated Christmas shoppers that we dared brave the lines at...Wendy's drive through. Those lines, I'm telling you! And the attitude of the other shoppers as they just, serenely drove away sucking frosty through a straw. It was intense.

In other news, it is quite possible that, for the first time ever, team J&J may send out Christmas cards this year. I cannot make any promises, but if you want to get in on what could possibly be the most fantabulous postal festivity since flat-rate shipping, please do send me your mailing address.

The Trees of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come.

The Awesome One and I have been married just over a year, but we already have a solid Christmastime tradition. Partially because we like to be crafty but mostly because I do not like storing "things", we make our own tree ornaments each year--disposable ones that do not require being boxed up and saved come February..erm, I mean...January. ehem.

So, here's a peek at our first three Christmas trees, in chronological order.

Tree #1: Affectionately Titled "The Ugly Tree"

The tree is a gloriously preserved fiber-optic number passed down from a sibling who was hard pressed to part with it. The fibers no longer opt, as it were, but isn't it just... I don't know.

A close-ups of the stained-glass cookies we made, to go with the lindor truffles and candy-canes. We felt they were suitably tacky for such a tree.

Tree #2: Which, for today's purposes, we're calling "The Newlywed Tree"

We splurged and purchased our very own, brand new piece of plastic pine. I'll admit, while it has a bit less character than the last, it is at least symmetrical.

We used left-over wedding invitations and the customized "Jennifer & Jeremy, September 25, 2010" ribbon for some of the decorations.

We made better stained glass cookies this year. We used a blue ring-pop for the "glass" to match the more restrained color theme, and blue-raspberry candy-canes.

Tree #3: As yet unnamed, but maybe "Au Natural" or "The Smelly Tree"

Mr. Awesome was such a champ about stringing those cranberries. And after he finished his strand and picked it up to hang on the tree, he was such a champ about chasing them all over the floor as they fell right off the string.

We dried these orange slices in the oven, and only burned a handful so well done us. To the left there you can see some cinnamon sticks and star anise which we bought at the spice market in Istanbul for this precise purpose. They smell lovely.

The stockings you can see in the background are a pair we purchased in Edinburgh, at a lovely little Christmas shop that seemed made entirely for me.

We do store the tree, which is annoying for me. I realize that buying a real tree each year would eliminate that problem, but I think I'm just being cheap. And I hadn't seen the selection of real trees Whole Foods sells when we purchased this one. I love making the ornaments each year, though. It means we never have the same decorations twice, and we get to be all creative about it each year. I have plenty of other ideas up my sleeve for future trees: Origami, for example, or lolli-pops. And just imagine how many things you can do with pine-cones.

Ambrosia, and other matters.

Him: So do you think we're like...the cool aunt and uncle now?

Me: Darling, you just taught your nieces how to suck hot-chocolate and ice cream through a cookie. You're set until your brother buys them a pony.

...

Him: I was sitting out there on the couch listening to you talk on the phone, and I realized I like to hear Jenni talk on the phone. So I brought my computer in here where I can hear you better.

Me: That's...an odd thing to enjoy.

Him: Well, you sound so excited about stuff.

Me: I'm excited when I talk to you, though.

Him: Yeah, but you talk to me all the time.

Me: So, it's more special for you when I'm saying it over the phone to someone else?

Him: Yep.

...

Me: Isn't it weird how the inflection in your voice can make anything sound like an innuendo?

Him: I'll inyourendo.

Me: Nope, not what I meant.

Really Bad Eggs

You know how on Halloween there are those trunk-or-treats and some of the people go all out and it's kind of weird but also pretty awesome? So anyway, this happened:

Those swords? Totally real, me 'earties.

The gold is not real, but that Jolly Roger? Legit.

We did not spend a cent on our costumes this year. Which, if you think about it, makes us kind of weird. I mean, what else do we have randomly hanging in our closet? (Saris and turbans, couple of leather masks, a kilt. You know, the basics.)

Notice the rum here. I spent a good fifteen minutes getting the right proportion of red, blue and yellow food coloring to achieve that amber color. And, having never actually seen rum in real life, I'm thinking I nailed it.

The nuance here, sea-dogs! It's obvious these are legitimate world-traveling marauders. I mean, the box is from India as are the Sari and the golden Ganesha, that jade ball in the center is from China, the burgundy fabric with gold details is from Turkey, and those plates, if you can believe it, come all the way from the magical land of Target.

I drew that treasure map with an actual quil and ink.
And then I LIT IT ON FIRE!

This not real.  Well, I mean I am a real person and all, but the blood is fake. I think. Unless the Riteaid is selling real blood. That'd be weird. And disgusting. And illegal.

We're beggars and blighters and ne'er do-well cads,
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho. 

Aye, but we're loved by our mommies and dads,
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.

Happy Halloween, ye scalawags!

Birthday Week

Twenty nine years ago on a dark, stormy October night a tiny Baby Awesome was born into this world. Exactly three-hundred and sixty two days later another child, this time a girl with a flare for melodrama, joined the mortal realms herself. It would be several years, decades even, before the twain would meet. But when they did, the world was never the same again.

And so it is, my spectral friends, that once a year when the leaves change color and the stores fill with fun-sized candy bars, a special festival is held to commemorate these two souls. I give you, Birthday Week!

This year's week-long festival began on a Saturday, when Mr. Awesome agreed to dress in a kilt and spend all day with me at the Renaissance Festival for a second time this season. Actually, this is notable since a) we've never before gone more than once in the same season, and b) we've never spent more than a couple of hours there. Surprisingly, it was easily the most fun we've ever had at the renfaire.

Rico and Bald Guy, throwing knives. Also they juggle. Also it freaked me out and I never want to see someone throw a knife into a balloon when someone else's head is INSIDE IT ever again. (Shudder)

Volgemut, the medieval German band. This I would watch again...and again and again and again. Mom, you would have absolutely loved them and I insist that you visit me next October and see for yourself! (This is not a request, it's a demand.)

Awwww, so tender. Actually, I'm pretty sure a couple got married in the chapel behind us a few minutes before this picture was taken. And you thought we were a weird couple.

Apparently I'm attracted to a bad boy after all...although, for a sloth, this is a very animated face, no? I mean, he looks more....angry? Constipated? I dunno.

I'm obviously innocent here. Look at that face.

Sucka!

 

And then Mr. Awesome taught me how to shoot an arrow.

He's much better at it himself though. Please notice the action shot here, I snapped this just as the arrow left his hand. Be amazed, be truly amazed.

I took like twenty photos like this. And honestly, can you blame me?

Not pictured here are the authentic foods we consumed (including that most quintessential of medieval snacks: the turkey club sandwich), and two versions of Hamlet we watched, one of which was performed by two mimes. It was one of the best productions I've seen, honestly. Especially the scene when Ophelia walked out in goggles and flippers to drown herself, glaring passive-aggressively at Hamlet the whole time. The layers! I'm telling you. We also tried knife throwing, star throwing, and ax throwing. Mr. Awesome may have me beat at archery, but when it comes to ax throwing? I killed it, folks. My third ax not only hit the target, it hit dead center. Watch yourselves, that's all I'm saying.

Unfortunately, Scotland lost the joust to England (again). This time one of our knights was from Spain, too. It's the old guy who always rides for England; that dude is amazing. Last time we went one of our knights was a girl, so that pretty much rocked. Dame Brunhilde of Germany was one tough cookie. We still lost to the old guy. Jerk.

My actual birthday was the following day, and when Mr. Awesome expressed disappointment that he hadn't been able to think of anything to get me for my birthday, I reminded him that he got me the best present I could ask for:

A man in a kilt shooting arrows at stuff. And Georgetown Cupcakes, of course.

A few days later I got up at ridiculous o'clock in the morning to sneek outside and decorate the car with mini kitkats and reeses. I'll be honest, there was a moment when I was convinced I would be murdered while hanging candy bars from the ceiling of my car. That parking lot was dark, deserted, and creepy. It all turned out okay and Mr. Awesome was nicely surprised when he went left for work on his birthday. That night, as per his request, I made him cake balls. For those of you not in the know, cake balls are basically a way to take regular cake and make it ten times more sugary and disgusting. He loved it.

Did I really fit 29 candles into a single cupcake? Dudes, of course I did.

I am rocking these actions shots lately, check out that smoke.

He would later throw up after consuming too much sugar. I still don't think he regrets it.

That weekend we celebrated with a ghost-tour of Old Town Alexandria, which was just as awesome as it sounds. More so, because we went with Mr. Awesome's fabulous brother and sis-in-law. And then we went to Cox Farms where Mr. Awesome enjoyed several slides, a funnel cake, and a hot chocolate. He was then banned from eating sweets for two solid days. 

Istanbul II: Sacred Wisdom

I've wanted to see that building since the day I found out she existed. Somehow, though, I felt certain I never would. What with all the Sistene Chapels and Notre Dames and Westminster Abbeys yet to be seen, surely this one church, so far off the usual track, would be beyond my reach. Besides, even though she was once the greatest Christian church in the world, she's hardly as famous now. She isn't a church anymore, and even her time as a mosque ended years ago.


But when we saw those discounted tickets to Istanbul online, Hagia Sophia was the reason I bought them. And when we woke up for the first time in that ancient, fascinating city, she was the only thing I cared about seeing.

We went early to the gates, determined to miss the crowds. I was anxious somehow, as though if we were not fast enough somehow something would prevent me from seeing her. I'd come all this way and I just knew it couldn't be that easy. The gates must be barred to us. There would be a password we did not know, a gesture or look that would mark us as outsiders, not ready to see her now. And if not now, when? Hurry, we have to hurry.

But the gates were not barred. No password required, and outsiders or no, the ticket price guaranteed us admission. And so, we walked through the old walls to stand next to her. Solid, stable, and plain in comparison to the delicate white mosques that surround her. From the outside, in fact, she is just a red-brown giant, dowdy even, next to the frilly, glittery Blue Mosque opposite. But that's outside.

This is inside.

This is the passageway to the upper levels. There was something truly creepy and wonderful about this bare stone passage. Or maybe I've read too much Udolpho.

This doesn't even give you an adequate sense of how massive it is, but it's the best I can do. Look at those puny little homo sapiens down there. So insignificant

Hagia Sophia has been many things to many people in her sixteen-hundred year lifetime, but she started out as a christian church. Her walls and domes were covered in gold-leafed mosaics. Pictures of the Virgin, Christ enthroned with various empirical personages, John the Baptist, angels, seraphim, and crosses glittered on nearly every surface. But all of that changed when Mehmet the conqueror had her turned into a mosque. The massive building with its incredible dome would remain, but the human figures, the crosses, the intricate and masterful mosaics, would have to go. And so they did. Rail at him if you must, but give him this one credit: rather than scrape them entirely from the walls, Mehmet chose to cover the mosaics with plaster. Saving them, partially at least, from total destruction.

And now, centuries later, they are peaking through again. A face here, a wing there. Some glittery pattern above a pillar. The work of restoring her walls to their original grandeur will take time, and she will never be what she once was. Even so, with just these few glimpses into her byzantine self, one can understand Justinian, the emperor who commissioned her, when he said at first entering

"Oh Solomon! I have outdone you!"

I wish I could have taken a better photo of His face here and they way the artist used hints of pink in the tiles to give Christ's face a human warmth.

Plaster next to mosaic. Doesn't the paint look silly next to the original?

I don't have any photos of me here, but that's probably better anyway. I'm sure I looked kind of nuts with my mouth hanging open and tears in my eyes. Mr. Awesome, of course, can be counted on for sanity and calm in any situation.

Looking out toward the blue mosque from an upper window, you can see its minarets in the distance. That's a sultan's tomb seen through an upper window.

Looking back at that same window. Warning: Objects in photo are much more amazing than they appear.

So listen, I won't bore you with anymore drooling over mosaics and such like. Suffice it to say that Hagia Sophia blew my mind, and since I can't adequately describe it for you, you'll just have to go see her for yourself.