Eatstanbul

By my own fault I had imagined Constantinople and not Istanbul. I had pictured a layer of gold gleaming across the city, opulent mosques and churches bordering on lavish little streets and fantastic markets. Instead, a vast modern city spread endlessly before us with its accompanying stench and filth.

The highlight, undoubtedly, was the food. By God, the food!
Everyday started out with a large Turkish breakfast at out hostel (9€ for the night including this very breakfast): thick yogurt, muesli, slices of watermelon, grapes, feta cheese, tomato/carrot/cucumber salad, fresh bread and various spreads with coffee and an endless supply of Turkish tea. This tea is brewed strongly in a tiny teapot,  then diluted with hot water to suit the individual drinker's preference in tea-strength and served in small glasses with sugar klontjies.

For lunch and dinner my friend and I tried everything:

The only breakfast we paid for: a cheese omelette with bread, feta and salad.

Hazelnut and pistachio baklava. 

Snacktime on the Bosporus boat ride. 

Chestnuts. 

Wonderful goat's milk ice cream at Mado.

A churro-thing with pistachio. 

The best grilled lamb in Istanbul. 

Kokoreç, or what I now now to be "lamb or goat intestines, often wrapping seasoned offal, including sweetbreads, hearts, lungs or kidneys". Thank you Wikipedia. It was really tasty though. 

Mince Pide. 

Börek filled with cheese. The only vegetarian thing we ate during the entire trip. 

Manti, or Turkish ravioli, with a yogurt sauce. Delicious. 

Waffle with Nutella and strawberries. Don't mind if I do. 

Weekly market

Fresh orange or pomegranate juice. 

Lamb (I think it might have been liver), köfte and chickpeas. 

Caramel dondurma, or an elastic ice cream that involves an entire game with the ice cream vendor. I was not amused but my friend thought it was very funny. Here is an example. 

Our last meal: döner. 

Even though I only just realised what some of the things I ate were, it was all extremely well spiced, tasted marvelous and was very affordable. Next time we head to Turkey I would suggest skipping the city and only going where your stomach takes you.

Tea & Sympathy

After last week's sad sad Friday the 13th (maybe I should've taken the ominous date as a hint that no good could come), this week's Friday is a lot better. In the meantime I have managed to find a place to live, ordered a futon mattress, bought a knife and two mattress covers at Ikea and made bobotie and malva pudding. Both dishes were a bit disappointing in that I couldn't find all the ingredients and that thus they only tasted like 3/4 of home. 

However, I did visit an interesting tea shop last week. It isn't really a tea shop, more of a tea-experience. The Tadshikische Teestube  is almost 40 years old and the interiors were originally a gift by the Soviets to the Society for German-Soviet friendship after they were exhibited at a fair in Leipzig in 1974. If I understand correctly, the tearoom used to be located elsewhere and recently moved to its current location in the Oranienburger Straße.

I am used to rooibos tea in a pot. Here, it was a different experience all together: you sit on the floor and then order which kind of tea you'd like. We went for the Russian tea ceremony, where you get what I would call a tea-espresso (as in a lot of tea in a little water) on top of a silver urn that contains hot water, which I think is called a samovar. You then dilute the tea with a chosen amount of hot water (we went for 1:3) and sweeten you tea. The options were: sugar cubes, orange/lemon fondant, candied lemon and orange peel, strawberry/rhubarb jam, rum raisins and various types of sugar candy. There was also a bowl with different cookies, although they all looked as though they came out of a packet and weren't baked by the Teestube.  

It was a lot of fun trying out the different types of sweetening methods. Oh, and I forgot: there was a shot of vodka as well. Hot damn, my alcohol tolerance had really become weak. One shot of vodka and I was a bit too glad that we were lounging on the ground: there was no way to fall. All the sweeteners were interesting, although the only one I'd use at home again was the addition of jam to tea. That was quite cool. 

We also had borscht and solyanka because at the moment Germany is a cloudy cold mess and soup alleviates the lack of sunshine a little bit. I really miss the sun. Yesterday I laughed out in the S-Bahn because my mom had said that when Europeans are in SA and have time to sit in the sun, they look like a rabbit does when headlights flash onto it: paralyzed but looking straight at the light. Now I understand why. 

Family

My grandmother has come for a visit. I do love her, but after about 500000 cups of tea and her mood swings, I start to despise her. Misery and pessimism seep into the air you breathe when she sits down. You feel disheartened. If she is what I'll end up as, why live at all? If this is the reward for living, what is the point? There is no dying happily, embraced by your better half. There is no pain-free end. Life is not celluloid.

I have to remind myself : she is 82 ( I think). I should be nice. I should kill her with kindness. By becoming so old, she deserves my respect. I am nothing without her. But it irritates me to have to keep my mouth shut and my opinions to myself, out of fear of offending her. The old are fragile. Do not try to change them. You cannot teach an old dog new tricks. 

No, you can't. But hell, the world evolves. Even if you don't like it, you must acknowledge that you cannot stay stuck in a mindset not suited to a modern era.

My grandmother proves you can. Many people seem to not want to adapt to any change. I presume it is out of fear. The young can face hardship. The young can suffer for longer. However, when you are old, how much more can you take? How many more aches? How many disappointments? 

I forget that you were young once. I forget that you were me, 60 years ago. 

Then I look at you again. Sunken skin. Match-stick legs. A slight hunch. Crooked hands. Two holes in the bottom row of teeth. You almost died last year. I thought you would. 

We are driving and I have been disappointed in you for 200 km. I feel you are not a movie-grandmother. I believe you do not try to feel anything positive any more. I feel you have forgotten what happiness is. 

A hand is touching my shoulder. A peeled slice of apple lies in your hands, reaching in between the two front seats. That is all I need to forgive you for being like this now. That is all I need to acknowledge your own suffering: it must be hard not to be able to remember where you placed your toothbrush. Or that you should pack warm clothes. Or that we just had tea.  

Ouma. Moenie worry nie. Eintlik weet ek jy's meer as wat jy nou wys.