Adyaman

to all the ones I got to meet here:
Tessekur ederim!!!

comida 1

which peruvian, proud to be called so, can disassociate names of cities with the names of their traditional dishes?
How could one hear Arequipa without inmediately thinking of a nice rocoto relleno or a cuy chactao? or if passing by Tumbes, not yearn for a taste of conchas negras? o la rica selva con su tacacho y su cecina mmmmm
desde ya, se me hace agua la boca
....
.....
Turkey, this beautiful land I have the pleasure to be travelling through at the moment, is no different.
Different areas mean different exquisite dishes.
And being the good Turk I pride myself in being, I've made it my mission to try and sample them all :)
I find myself in Mersin today and Mersin is known for its Tantuni, but fate, being the jokester she is, will have me spending my afternoons around a different type of dish. A tad sweeter.




Fate dropped me off in an ice cream shop one afternoon and then, she turned around and left.
Mustafa picked me up from there...
He sat me down, gave me a piece of baclava, then some icream and then the conversation started. A person that loves his job is so difficult to find but, when found, it is so refreshing to talk to.
It was a pleasure almost as big as the pleasure of eating his ice cream... To tour his shop, to hear him talk about ingredients, and fruits, and freshness, and and and and ... just to watch him talk drew a smile on my face...

and made me go back later.
and then the following day :)

I wouldn't have guessed this area was so sweet ..... bici bici? Karsanbac? anyone?

chai bahcesi

4 de la tarde y el viento sopla. No se ve a nadie en la calle, pero pon un poquito de atención y por entre árboles, bajo su sombra, medio escondidos, andan los clientes del Jardín de Té (Çai Bahçesi) cada uno con su grupito, ya sean dos o seis;cada uno con su jueguito, sean cartas, ok, tabla; y cada uno, por supuesto, con su propio estilo...
¡como es que el tiempo vuela entre jugadas y bocanada de humo!
y ¡Qué bien sabe aquí el té!!

ya llevo un buen par de horas por aquí  y se me figura, este humilde jardín, un gran tablero de Karpov: cada mesa a mi alrededor, cada comensal que por aquí pasa, cada mujer que de cuando en cuando pasa a llamar a su marido, todos y cada uno tienen su posición y su función. Yo me arriesgo a adivinar cuales son las de los niños:

el futuro capo; ese q mira con atención cada jugada en cada mesa y de cuando en cuando se atreve a sugerir una movida;
el capo frustrado; ese q hace casi lo mismo pero a cada sugerencia es mandado a callar;
el mandadero; ese q con su bici va y viene, llevando y trayendo encargos desde cualesquier esquina del pueblo hasta y desde aquí;
el amiguero; ese que va de mesa en mesa saludando a sus "tíos";
el niño bueno; ese que viene en busca de su papá por encargo de su mamá;
el futuro dueño; ese que ayuda desde ya con las mesas y los pedidos;
el suertudo; ese al que los tíos le estiran las manos llenas de dados para que les sople la buena suerte.....

y el tiempo sigue pasando
y al pasar todo pone en movimiento: el sol, en su camino a morir a la mar, mueve las sombras ya predispuestas y con estas sombras nos movemos también nosotros, pareciéramos sillas musicales. ¡Qué juego de niños!

Llega una moto, dos palomas se van volando, el conejo se esconde tras la pileta de agua... tanto movimiento y uno muriéndose de calor.....

Freedom

And as I started thinking of a reason as to why I've been pushing back writing this entry, the reason becomes obvious: the subject itself makes it more than just an entry. If Beyoglu is the heart of Istanbul then Istiklal is its carotid: were it one day to fail, the heart and the body will also stop. Fortunately, that chance is far from ever becoming reality....
Istiklal is a mini mirror of Istanbul. In its streets you´ll find anything and everything Istanbul has to offer. Not only embassies, hotels, bars, discos, restaurants and clothing and souvenir shops but also family homes, student flats, executive flats, hostels, shoe makers, bag makers, tailors... the list can go on and on. There isn´t one time of the day in which Istiklal is empty. Maybe (just maybe) Tuesday at 6 am. maybe....

The crowd is an ocean in which all of us are but drops following the current. Try to go from one side of the street to the other one on a Saturday afternoon. Try and fight that current. It´ll be for certain the longest crossing you've ever made, as it will also be 15 minutes of pure excitement :)

It is rumored that Istanbul has 18 million people and that on a Friday night, at least 8 of them are somewhere in Beyoglu :)


I overheard a tourist yesterday making a comment to her loved one: "let´s be careful, look at all these people! there must be a demonstration or something!" I couldn´t help myself: "nah, Istiklal is like this, everyday. Hurry up and enjoy the view before it gets too crowded"....

And I say "enjoy it" because Istiklal is more than a meeting point: It´s a treat to the eye. Beautiful buildings adorned each flank and in between them, long gorgeous alleys take you from the central vein to its affluents.. whenever you come, take the time and look up :)

But it's my opinion, the beauty of Istiklal comes from it being a place that is alive:
6 o'clock in the morning marks the time for some people to start heading to work: shirt, shoes, and tie in hand, they make their way through the almost empty street, on their way crossing yet another group of people who are just coming into the street: jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers, getting ready to open their shops.

But to this crowd of comers and goers we must add our special characters who complete our Istiklal: our simitci; the dialy brakfast is never complete without this sesame round bread delicacy. Either pushing his red cart or balancing a big tray on his head, our simitcis stay busy all throught out the morning, even mid afternoon when another character comes in to replace him:the castagne guy. A strong perfum fills the air as he makes his way through our Istiklal.

And from midday on, a non-stop chain of characters will fill up our street: our mısır (corn) guy,the dondurma (ice cream) guy and our most lovable and cherisehed character after long dancing nights: our midye (mussels) guy.....















Funny how almost all of Istanbul can be experienced in just a few kilometers....

And because life in Turkey is about music, streets musicians are never absent in this our street.......

maybe a little show as well....

a few clowns advertising a new shop, some acrobats boucing around for an upcoming festival, a few protesters raising their voice, a few more thousand protesters making sure their cause is not forgotten.....

Anything that needs to be remembered, needs to pass by Istiklal....

and so I also passed....

Address to a Haggis

And is this little three legged animal that brings me to costumes of a proud nation: food, drink, a little dance, a speech and endless tales of trips warm up the night. No other way around it: have to come back!!


Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' yet tak your place,
Painch, tripe or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaining trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distill
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Lobour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reeking', rich!....

Firenze

Una sonrisa, un café.... cuánto puede cambiar un humor...
Una camarera pintoresca grita a voz en cuello, juega con los niños del mercado q pasan por ahí mientras la loca esta escribe sus ordenes en su palm pilot! encontrones diarios...
Lo mejor es q me introduce a una delicia q casi me voy sin conocer: trippa y bollito (mondongo) hmmmmm



La vida tiene mejor color con la barriga llena.. más o menos....

A Commmerrrrrr!!!

y a comer rico tambien!!
Fiesta de San Juan