A Traditional Night with the Modern Uppercrust

"Here we have a relic of Suleyman the Magnificent. Have you heard of him?"
"Yes."
"Well Suleyman was really magnificent..."
As is the Hagia Sofia - an ancient Byzantine basilica built by the Emperor Justinian in 520 ce, then converted to a mosque by the architect Sinan in the 16th cent. Golden mosaics, massive discs with Arabic lettering, and a ceiling honestly jaw-dropping the moment you walk in. But enough about tourist destinations...

I saw an intense gangsta looking character wearing a do-rag and happily licking an ice cream cone. I thought that was funny.

It occurred to me about the power structure of the couchsurfing get together, or the routine of like-minded individuals from all over the world...There's something so much more organic, looser in a sense, about the confusion of a bunch of people from different countries just being together and not really knowing why. A genuine curiosity, skeptical conversation, sitting around a dinner table trying to talk, hitting impasses of worldview by accident completely disassociated from the pretension of prepared participation.
What I mean to say is when people from various countries all get together, there's an assumption that they will all be foreigners and therefore something of the novelty is lost. When a foreigner just happens to be around, there's a rollicking silliness that seems to hover over the scene and that's what I enjoy the most.

Last night I partied with some lovely students about my age. One of which had a cousin that just graduated from NYU, so she had been to New York 3 years earlier. She wanted to be a director. Another wanted to move to Hollywood and make it as an actress. He who introduced me to them all is studying IT because there's a strong market with a guaranteed position with a high salary in Istanbul. (In the cab ride back a late-comer, a Greek, whispered to me that I was among the elite - daughters of famous actresses/businesspeople, he himself was a member of a very popular and famous band, and he expected to sleep only with the models - I had been wondering about the stunning apartment with the view over the Bosphorus and luxurious furniture that I had spend the afternoon and evening drinking wine and Jack Daniels in) But dinner was all tradition - Turkish tapas - yoghurts, cucumbers, spicy red stuff, mild chunky red stuff, a wedge of spicy cheese, a shaved tomato, yellow creamy stuff, and way too much raki - traditional Turkish liquor, tastes like liquorish (I don't know how to spell that) is clear but when mixed with water (also clear) it becomes cloudy like skim milk. I asked the chemistry majors at the table why that would be and they're still getting back to me on it.

Croonersongs with sad strung strings and joinalong heartmusic. Hurrahs and sadsong lifestories. English came in and out like a radio with bad reception, but I was too busy cracking up over the utter material truth of the facts and the facts and the understanding that I was there and there was there and we were all together. For a few moments I was warred over for bestfriend status but mostly I was out of my element. My pants look Anatolian (which means like a monk, an old Muslim conservative, or "a gay") I don't have a towel, my socks are dirty, and for some reason, my beardline has been very itchy of late. Maybe it's sunburn but I haven't yet taken a shower and to my astonished nose, I haven't yet needed one.

Mostly I'm getting antsy for the road, and hopefully you, gentle reader, are as well. The road means loss - loss of comfort, loss of reliability, loss of direction (and the gaining of a much more literal direction) - at the same time it means potential. In Istanbul I am a tourist spending way more than my budget allows on entrance fees to beautiful old things (the palace was 10 lira to get in...and then 10 more if I wanted to visit the harem! $1 = 1.22YTL bullshit bullshit!) Luckily the mosques are free. Anyway, I need to pick a route based off of weather, possible reception, natural beauty, and cultural fascinations. I'm planning to leave tomorrow, Saturday or Sunday. The band guy told me I can't continue with my life until I experience an Istanbul Saturday night with him and his crew, but I'm wondering what is worth it really. No offense to this lovely city, but I think a Saturday night in Manhattan has some serious rival potential. No matter how modern this country is, girls still have to tread very cautiously if out on the streets (even in liberal cosmopolitan Taksim) in a mini-skirt.

I send all of my love and encourage you to keep posting comments.

Cheers,
tcm