we are going on vacation. normally i would be ecstatic about the prospects of leaving the city for the aegean coast, but i am being distracted by my unending illness. it has been one week. i am never sick. i have come to the conclusion that i must be dying. so in direct juxtaposition to my present sentiments, i give you these beautiful photographs of my home.... how i wish to sit on the banks of these shady, dark waters with nothing but the breeze and a neti pot.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
i have a sore throat. i hate being ill and, unfortunately, i make that perfectly clear so everyone else hates when i am ill as well. i have my flaws; complaining is definitely one of them. probably should work on that....probably not today.
but i digress; my intention for this post is to tell of the strange occurrences manifesting themselves in the time of my discomfort.....
1. i used the electric teapot as a very effective humidifier for our room. i figured out (definitely not accidentally) that if i leave the top open to let out maximum steam, the kettle will never stop boiling; a small work of genius, as the little kettle-that-could immediately transformed our sleeping space into a steamy sauna. i was very happy. ali was very unhappy (he is covered in a fine brown fur that keeps him well insulated on even the coldest of nights), but i didnt care...i am ill.
2. i dreamed of a lone toilet that stood nakedly in the middle of my home town. the solitary john was completely exposed to the elements and the watchful eyes of passersby. as i walked along the presently empty, moonlit street, the need came upon me, so i rested my pale fa-funs on its pearly edges. my skin had but touched the cold contours when, to my immediate horror, i realized that a crowd of night runners was nearly upon my public place of constitution! i raced against them to simultaneously extricate myself from my blue, chiffon gown (chiffon?! how shameful. what torture is this?) and extricate said gown from the grips of the porcelain pooper. alas, humiliation seemed inevitable; i could now distinguish the first oncoming face (a mean-girl, what cruel fate!)....but as the realization dawned that i could not escape with the weight of a toilet-watered, frilled dress, i turned to face my former tormentors, and awoke (justice! i've paid loser dues) to the continued boil of my ancient, yet trusty teapot.
moral: everyone has devils past, but i can proudly say, with near complete credence, that not one of those grade-school queens possesses the initiative to create a homemade humidifier from a soviet-era, electric kettle. what now.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
today is the start of ramazan. ramazan (turkish, or ramadan in english) is the ninth month of the islamic calendar, throughout which observers are expected to refrain from lustful acts, ingesting mind-altering substances, and various other heathenish behaviors. participants are also expected to fast during the daylight hours (even from water), making an already very animated peoples even more.....animated, is the word i am inclined to use again.
this year, ramazan coincides with a period of oppressive heat in the city as well as roiling socio-political unrest; a storm is brewing and, like the most exciting summer thunder-storms, one cannot predict whether the winds will change, leaving only a sprinkle of rain chasing after a dark sky, or whether that sky will open and the forces will make what they want of this world.
so ali (my little turkish love) and i decided to escape. we drove up the bosporus to the black sea where the winds whip the water into a foamy, cold playground. we checked into a hotel room and shouted (spat)from our balcony. we ate pan-fried fish and drank cold beer and saw the sun set and waited for the night to bath our burnt skin in its cool, clean air.
it did, and we slept soundly in a way that is particular only to the comforts of a plush, white hotel bed you know you dont have to make in the morning.
and we didn't make it. we left it and walked amongst stone ruins and along grassy, green bluffs. we walked and whispered and watched the big boats push slowly on towards an elusive destination (perhaps russia or iran), an inconceivable reality, leaving only our wonder and envy in their wake.