Exploring Istangoat...er...bul.

I have been remiss. This is supposed to be a log of my travel and I have not so logged. I apologize. I intend to make up for it by making this next Joof as captivating as humanly possible.

Enter Mom and Dad!

Barbara and Jim are pictured above relaxing at one of our favorite home-cooked restaurants called Little Wing. Every time you go to Little Wing the proprietor creates a new culinary masterpiece which is consequently "what's for dinner." That's it. Whatever she's made you eat. Luckily not a thing comes out of Esra's oven that does not send your senses into a orgiastic tailspin of flavor. If you look very carefully you can see her in the picture below.
Example: I wouldn't eat eggplant if it was dipped in chocolate, served on a platter filled with my favorite beers, and all presented to me by the incomparable Juliette Binoche.

I eat Esra's eggplant.

Mom arrived before dad so we had some quality time to hang out and enjoy the city. We explored all of the hot sites. To get there we first we hiked it from Rana's house up the street and boarded the most amazing piece of transportation technology since the unicycle, a Dolmuş.

For those of you who don't speak Turkish, which is bound to be 98% of the people reading this, the shay symbol "ş" is pronounced "sh." That makes the word "Dol- mush." I always thought it was called that because everyone mushes inside but dolmuş literally means "filled."
Here is one:

These puppies take you all over the city at fraction of the price of a taxi and only a few cents more than a bus. They are the perfect carpooling solution. Each little bus has a big door that opens on the right side (not shown) through which people board and disembark. It's like mom taking all the neighborhood kids to soccer practice except mom smokes Marlboroughs and smells like an Aegean fish merchant. Lets just say the Dolmuş isn't as kind to the senses as Esra's cooking.

Once we figured out the "little yellow mini bus," as I heard a Spaniard here call it, we ventured into the vast and beautiful city that is Istanbul. Ancient minarets adorn busy modern streets. You can literally walk out of building much older that the US and into a Banana Republic to buy the latest style of pants that are made for men with no asses. (Damn you BR.)Pictured below is one such anachronistic street call Istiklal. In the foreground are two enthralled looking Turks that I don't know. (Bet they never dreamed they'd be on the internet).


This street is quite famous for shopping...if you like the same shops you're used to in the States. It is so comforting to go half way around the world only to be inundated by American companies at every turn. Yeah for the 4 Starbucks on this street. Ok, let me just wipe off this oozing sarcasm so we can continue. Well maybe not. I think that is enough for today. I certianly hope think electronic fun finds you smiling.
Devon

Casting off the chains of oppression.

Blog is such a silly disgusting sounding word. It's like "Blech" mixed with "log." There's just no good imagery that emerges there. So in an emergency last minute meeting with myself I've decided to call mine something different, something catchy yet not cliché, something with a sparkly undertone that doesn't get stuck in your teeth.

I tried on a number of names for size. To mention but a few: teelop, hoobergrip, grundleflight, nod, draq, ube, imk, qweeb, and of course steve. None spoke to me in the way the following did.

Hitherto my blog will be known as a joof.


Are we all clear now? My joof will be the same as a blog yet different. It will be free of most things that bog down the blog, most of all the thought process. It will be pithy yet airy, strong yet subtle, and interesting yet trite.
Stay tuned.

How to Plummet

The name of this entry should be adopted by the red bull boys. Last weekend I had the supreme pleasure of attending the Redbul Flugtag event right here in little olde Istanbul.

If you are unfamiliar with this publicity sporting event, familiar up cause it is really quite fun and is infused with an equal dose of hilarity. Teams assembled by the local community compete in a ridiculous display of flight by designing a glider that can theoretically fly supporting the weight of one person. The Rules? The glider can only be people powered. Teams are judged on style, distance, and something else.

The event was conveniently held not 4 blocks from our apartment so getting there was a breeze. We trundled on over and met some of our German friends who were in town, Johannes and Ina. It was about 95 degrees (35 degrees Celsius, I'm learning) and we waded through thousands of people until we had a decent place to stand.

Oh yeah, It was hot, damn hot, so the beard became a memory, quicklike.

The Redbull crew had achieved an impressive erection in the neighborhood of about 3 stories tall. Each team was announced and did a little jig or skit before the big leap . My favorite team had a disco theme for which they designed an exceptionally flightless record player to toss off the cliff. Here it be!

I know it's difficult to see with the small picture but he throws silver confetti into the air right as he jumps. Marks for flare! About midway through the program a plane flew over and dropped a little man out. With deft movements he was able to steer his parachute right onto the dock. Cool. I did learn a few things that day as well:

It is important when out in the sun all day to stay hydrated.

And of course don't forget to cover your head.


Hope this finds you all well.
Devon