Beypazarı street - click for larger version
Sunday we joined Anna, Turkner, and a few of their friends on a trip to Beypazarı, a little historic town about 90 minutes outside Ankara. We traveled on a bus, 5 lira each way- like $6 round trip! The weather was extremely uncooperative: rather dreary and chilly, when it wasn't pouring rain. But it was a very cool little town all the same- it was originally a major stop on the silk/spice routes between Baghdad and Istanbul. It was a twisty, hilly little place, lined with spice shops, silver jewelers, and pastaneleri- pastry shops, with quite a few hijab-wearing grandmothers making baklava in the front windows. The baklava in Beypazarı is unusual- it's 80 layers thick, instead of the usual 40. Turkner bought something from one of these little vendors, and the woman made us promise to come back for fresh (free!) baklava as soon as it was ready. No need to ask me twice! We wandered around in a jewelry shop, very pretty, intricate little things, and then went back. It was a tiny shop, the size of a large coat closet, walls covered in jars and bags and containers of strange-looking dried things and powdered things and sesame-covered things. The baklava wasn't quite ready, so the store owner had us sit on low couch that ran the length of the back wall- maybe six feet or so. She served us scoops of dried white mulberries, and some sort of pretzel-esque bits covered in sesame seeds (a trend I've noticed among... well, everything here.) As we munched, she talked with Turkner and asked about Alex, Anna, and I. Upon hearing that we were Americans, she said "Ahhh! Obama! Yes?" and we smiled and nodded. And she then brought out half a dozen more things for us to try- roasted almonds, something similar to dried cranberries, real sun-dried tomatoes, and several things I couldn't name. I tried everything, of course- and enjoyed all but one. I have no idea what it is called, but it looks a bit like a dried fruit from the outside- the shiny burnt orange outer peel was a little loose from the fruit inside, and the whole thing was about the size of my thumb from the second knuckle out. I bit into it, and was promptly laughed at- you don't eat the skin. However, the bigger surprise was the INSIDE of this "fruit." It was like biting into a small stuffed animal, if stuffed animals had black oblong pits in the middle. I mean it- it was compacted FLUFF. Almost like a really dense cottonball. Easily the strangest thing I've ever heard of anyone eating. It just didn't taste- or FEEL- like food! I ate it anyways, and Alex laughed at my attempt to compliment our hostess afterwards. "That was really- I don't think I've ever had- I mean- um, teşekkürler!" (thank you!) It was particularly comical because she didn't speak a word of English anyway.
Jewelry shop window; the snacks we were served - click for larger version
Turkner and the others bought several bags of spices and some of the snacks we had sampled, Alex bought some dried white mulberries, and I ended up getting something a bit more exotic. As usual, it's difficult to describe and has no state-side equivalent. At first glance, it looks like a dark, nondescript stick about an inch in diameter. It's made of mixed dried fruit that is made into a paste (I think), and packed around a string of walnuts. (Literally, there is a string in the middle). And then dried. You eat it by slicing off pieces, like you'd slice a carrot, then pulling them off the string. It's called "sucuk" (so-juck), but that is just the Turkish word for sausage- while this was like a dried fruit sausage. There's two kinds: one that looks shiny and pretty, with a clear sugar glaze, and the other, which looks... like a stick. No glaze- it is made with natural sugar from grapes. The natural one is a little less sweet but I like it better, and bought maybe a pound or so of it to take home with me.
A street with chickens; dried tomatoes, chilies, etc; & an old building - click
We visited a few museums- just very old, beautiful houses filled with beautiful artifacts- including clothing, which was displayed on terrifyingly unnatural mannequins set up to be "life-like" in various rooms. Very creepy. Interestingly, almost nothing was roped off or encased in glass- we wore little plastic shoe covers, but we were still treading on century-old tapestries. I physically touched clothing and tapestries and kitchenware that was not just much older than I am, but older than my country is. That's perspective for you.
After the bus ride home, Alex and I invited Anna over for dinner. We cooked chicken parmesan, apple crisp, and this thick, heavy pasta Alex bought in Beypazarı. And by "we cooked" I mean Alex cooked and I washed dishes and peeled a few of the apples for the apple crisp- I'm enough of a disaster in a kitchen, without adding the open-flame death trap of a stove that we currently possess. We have an understanding, the stove and I- I make tea, and don't mess with anything else. In return, it doesn't flare up unnecessarily and attempt to burn my hair off. Usually.
MONDAY. Alex and I took off work with the set goal of getting our residency permits, which are necessary for us to stay in the country longer than 3 months. Or might possibly have to do with us leaving the country and being able to get back in. Honestly I have no idea, but it seems super important to Alex, so I'm mostly tagging along for the ride. Irresponsible and clueless as to the legal requirements of staying in this country? Hey, that's just my style. So we got up late, lounged around the apartment for a bit, and then Alex went to talk to our boss about getting proof of residency- for the residency permit- which he did not have. Of course. But we still had the day off. We decided to go to the Vatican Embassy first, because Alex wanted to get a KJV bible and find out when services were, then go to the US Embassy and register as being in the country. We took a cab, which wasn't as complicated as usual because I memorized the Turkish word for embassy in advance- "elçilik." The Vatican Embassy, like all embassies, looked rather like a fortress. We approached timidly, and were asked by an armed Turkish guard what we wanted.
"Um, we wanted to... Uh... we're Catholic." Alex stammered. The guard looked at us skeptically and waited."We wanted to talk to..." I started. "A father!" Alex finishes.
"Which father?"
"Uh..." Alex looks at me. Like I know all sorts of secret Catholic passwords that are necessary to enter Vatican Embassies. "Uh... father... fatherrr...." Alex snaps her fingers, trying to "remember." The guard is unamused. "I just can't remember his name," she clarifies. I'm carefully standing a few feet back at this point, in case the aforementioned guard decides to test the claim of Catholicism that Alex had just dumped on me. ("Who was the 147th Pope?!" "PETERPAULANDMARY!")
Still unconvinced, the guard put us through on the intercom, so a disembodied voice could have a turn at interrogating us. A minute or two into the questioning, the voice without a face asks for the second time: "Which father?"
"ANY Father!" Alex finally yells.
"No." The blinking red light on the intercom flickers off. Cheerfully.
A moment or two later, a Turkish intern walks out to the gate and tries to figure out what we want. We ask about services, and he tells us the time and place. Than Alex asks about acquiring a Bible.
"Uhmmm... I don't really.... uhhhhh...." He looked completely confused. Because asking the Vatican where one can find a Bible is totally absurd. "I mean, good luck finding one..." he trailed off again, looking slightly more apologetic this time.
Right. So, without ever having stepped inside, we left. Caught a cab to the "Am-er-i-kan El-chill-ick." So whoever designed the US Embassy to Turkey was clearly convinced someone was going to try to blow it up, and consequently the place looks like one of those lego fortress that no one ever actually puts together because it's way too damn complicated. I mean, survive-nuclear-winter complicated: a fence of huge iron bars in front of steel plating in front of steel reinforced concrete, and once you actually get past those walls it's a maze of awkwardly shaped hallways and metal detectors. And once you get past THAT, you walk into a large room with a numbered row of windows on along one wall, and otherwise occupied by lots of frustrated-looking people. It's like a sadistic reality show: "Welcome to Hell: The DMV, Ankara-style."
Alex and I skipped the lines, (it's amazing what a blue passport can do), and were told by an overworked Turk that we should really just register online. Oh, I forgot to mention- the entire United States Embassy, as far as we saw it, was staffed by Turks. And severely irritated ones at that.
Your Friendly Neighborhood US Embassy
Vatican Embassy without bibles? Check.
American Embassy without Americans? Check.
Pigs with wings? Sorry, they don't do pork in Turkey.
But the day was not a complete loss. Alex and Marina and I gained a roommate- his name is Jude. He's really cute- white, with very funny ears. Thankfully he doesn't take up much space. He's been real quiet his first couple days here but as long as we have a steady supply of carrots, he doesn't seem to mind us.
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