After working enough hours to make my butt numb and my head start to throb, I decided it was time for a much-needed injection of caffeine.
(Or, rather, another injection.)
So, I gathered up my tray of empty thermos, cups, and lunch plate to make the long trek down to the kitchen, calling Zoya, our BRT, to join me.
Some background info: We live in a tall house. It’s reminiscent of the vertically built homes in Amsterdam except that in this one the architects kindly added an elevator.
(My experience is that elevators are not a common theme in Dutch houses/apartments, perhaps one reason why the people there are generally long, lean and mean…as in fit, not as a character. Of course, they are masters of the bike, too, which also helps.)
The kitchen is on the bottom floor. My office is on the top. There are 51 stairs to navigate between them.
Or you take the elevator.
I normally try to avoid taking the elevator because it’s healthier to walk.
(Plus, there is always the chance of getting stuck in it. It happened to my neighbor just last week.)
However, when I have a heavy tray to carry, I rationalize using the elevator.
(I try to always have my phone with me just in case I do get stuck.)
Something I apparently have done with the dog too often…
(After we exercise in the morning, she accompanies me to the office and remains there while I work until the boys get home from school. Because I generally have a tray, the first trip up to the office is with the tray and, thus, made via automated means. I often make subsequent trips downstairs, using the stairs, but Zoya stays put in the office.)
…because after I pushed the “down” button to call the elevator, I changed my mind about taking it down to the kitchen (remembering an errand that I had to do along the way). I reached the bottom floor with no dog behind me.
Strange. And I couldn’t hear a thing. Plus, I thought she was right behind me.
So, I went to the elevator and pushed the call button to get it to come downstairs. And who emerged from the elevator?
She saw me head down the stairs. She heard me call her. She weighed her option: stairs? or elevator? And chose the elevator. Unbelievable.
If that is not a lazy dog, then please share with us the story of what must be your practically comatose canine.
As for the miscellaneous…
I have had no time to blog. This isn’t a huge issue since this blog is an informal way to remember and share events and non-events from our life in Istanbul. However, I have been touched and surprised to see there are people reading this from all over the globe.
Even people I don’t know and haven’t paid to read it.
So, even though I am sure people are not exactly waiting with bated breath for my every blog, I do feel a tad neglectful.
(Plus, I have missed a few events, and you’d be surprised at how many times I have had to refer back to this “journal” to recall a landmark, museum or restaurant.)
So, without further ado, some images from Istanbul and elsewhere…
February 2nd, I finally made it to a CATS performance, this one at the Zorlu Center in Istanbul…a new mall / entertainment center that is lovely, with a theater large enough to provide a good space for a performance but small enough so that every seat in the house allows a decent view of the stage. Bonus: you can go shopping or dining before or after a performance!
(BTW, this “Grizabella’s” rendition of Memories was the best I have ever heard…it took over the auditorium and my face was not the only one with unbidden tears. If the entire performance had been a dud, it would have still been worth it many times over just to hear that memorable – pardon the pun! – song sung so beautifully. As it was, the entire musical was very good, spun out by an impressive group of Brits who could dance, sing and act…talk about the genetic pot of gold!)
Then, February 10th, while my loved ones in the midwest froze their tushes off, I ate lunch in a t-shirt on the terrace of the Four Seasons Hotel that is situated along the Bosporus.
(Have I mentioned I love the weather here?)
(Although this has been an unseasonably warm winter…so much so that the water supply is under stress.)
The reason? My normal hairdresser’s location was closed, and he moved to the Four Seasons. If you read my blog about the challenge of finding good hair care, you know that I prefer a known evil to an unknown one.
(Not that he is evil, of course; quite the contrary. It’s just that the platinum phase was a bit alarming…for me and my ends…but we got over that…which is why I do not want to “break” in another hairdresser and, in the process, my ends and my nerves).
Luckily, my appointment did not cost the arm, leg, and left lobe that I had feared; and I could rationalize lunch on the terrace afterwards. With this weather and view, who could resist?
The day after, the 9th graders’ moms went on an outing to the Museum of Innocence located in the Çukurcuma neighbourhood of Beyoğlu. The museum is built around the novel by the same title. One can see the book revealed on each floor, in each of the many, “tiny”(as in un-grande, not like most “major” museums) exhibits…the 4213-cigarette display with its accompanying video captures one’s imagination (in the video, you see the hand of Füsun as she smokes through time). The author, Orhan Pamuk, a Nobel -laureate Turkish novelist built the museum to reveal real life histories – “the humanity of individuals” – the everyday memorabilia in direct contrast to the masterpieces housed in most major museums. And, of course, lunch afterward at a very cozy restaurant Cuma (the “c” is pronounced as a “j”) that is worthy of repeat visits.
(Sorry, no pics…couldn’t take any inside the museum and the outside ones are no good.)
And last but not least a visit to the US for my mom’s 70th (!) birthday.
(Sorry, mom…good thing you have never wanted to hide your age … shout it loud and proud! ; ) )
No t-shirt lunches in Illinois…
Amazing how one can be in one place and climate one day and another the next. The wonder that is aerodynamics and modern flight is only less amazing than the places and sights it allows one to see…like this from an early morning run in Istanbul.