The Pazar

I went to the pazar again today... I still love it. It's such a feast for the senses. So colorful. So loud. So YUMMY... did I mention before that they are always holding out bits of tasty goodness to try as you walk around? A little section of a juicy orange. A sweet strawberry. A crisp slice of apple. A salty olive. I'm getting hungry just remembering it. Hold on... I'm going to go have a mandarin orange.

Okay, I'm back. So as I was saying, I went to the pazar this morning and took along my camera so you could enjoy it with me... well except for the tastes, sounds, and smell and feels. Is feels a word? Can I use it in that sentence?

I think these are four types of radishes. I haven't been brave enough to buy any of them because 1) I don't like radishes. 2) I'm really not sure if that's what they are... and if not, how do I use them? and 3) Black radishes? Weird.

Fruits and veggies of all kinds. . . I'm getting hungry again.

There are always these little hand made signs trying to let the pazar goers know just how amazingly good the produce is. Usually fruit says "like sugar" or "like honey," but this one, "like baklava" was new to me. Apparently this orange is sweet as a sticky piece of baklava. . . it also has a "thin skin" and is "SUPER!" And if knowledge that an orange is super doesn't make you want to buy it, what will?

More mandarin oranges than you can shake a stick at.

This guy was really excited about me taking pictures. Said I have to get a photo of his beautiful pomegranate flower.

There it is. Ain't that a beaut?! Smack dab in between the mandarins and the Asian pears. Next the pomegranate guy said he wanted copies of the pictures. He asked if I could post them on facebook. Awkward moment because. . .

Rabbit trail. Yesterday I accidently found out that someone had blocked me on facebook. Yes. Blocked me. As in I can't see you, you can't see me, we never cross facebook paths. I was a little sad. But then today I was desperately wishing for a real life face-to-face facebook "block" or even "ignore" button. Because, no offense pomegranate guy who I just met and probably wont ever see again except when I really want a ruby red juicy pomegranate, but I don't really want to be facebook friends with you, and it's awkward telling you that to your face.

Dried fruits and nuts.

An assortment of freshly baked breads. . . Am I the only one who suddenly wants a bagel? Too bad I can't get them in Turkey. But I can get bazlama. Take that bagel eaters!

And see those square tins. They're full of homemade cheese. It's good too! Kind of feta-ish. I bought a bag full.

Saving the best for last. . . OLIVES!

This woman lives along the Mediterranean. She and her family grow and make olives and olive oil (the two bottles on the bottom right are full of homemade olive oil). She's not a regular at the pazar, but came today to sell her olivey goodness. And apparently she also makes stuffed cabbage leaves, since that's what her grandson is eating for lunch. Yummy, yummy, and yummy.

A Christmas Camel Ride

One great thing about Turkey is that in some places you can find tourist camels. Not camels who are tourists, but camels for the tourists. They live on the roadside in popular destinations like Cappadocia. For a small fee you can climb up a ladder and onto a big cushy camel saddle. For another small fee you can ride that camel up and down the street.

The other day while James and I were driving back from visiting friends for Christmas we drove by a roadside camel and I shouted, “STOP!!” James freaked out and pulled to the side of the road thinking that I had gone into labor or that the car was about to explode or something (not that I’m pregnant or have any special impending explosion sensing powers). He was like, “What?” and I was like, “Hello? A camel! We have to get a family photo!” We had a photo taken a couple of years ago, (as you can see on the side of the blog) but we've had another baby since then and I decided it was time for an update.

So we all piled out of the car, Marie yelling, “Tamoh, tamoh, tamoh!” And running as fast as her little feet could carrier her toward the giant beast, and Elise being dragged out of the car complaining that we were interrupting her Veggie Tales movie. Obviously no real live hairy camel can compare to Larry the Cucumber.

The camel keeper guy set a ladder up and I climbed on first, then James handed up the baby. Suddenly a family camel photo did not seem like such a good idea. I mean what kind of mother holds her tiny baby in one arm while seated precariously nine feet in the air, on top of a wooly camel? Next up was Elise, still mad about us interrupting her movie, then Marie who was freaking out and shouting, “No tamoh... no wan it. No tamoh!” Finally James squeezed his way onto the saddle and the camel guy snapped a few photos.

Elise only lifted her head for the picture upon being threatened to have her movie taken away if she didn’t. Marie quietly cried, and I smiled while silently praying that the camel would stay still and none of my offspring would fall to their death.

Three pictures and a few dollars later we climbed down the ladder, I breathed a big sigh of relief, Marie went running toward the car as fast as her little legs could carry her saying, “No like tamoh. No wan it,” and Elise got back to her precious video.

Threats, smiles, tears... all in all a fairly normal family photo session. Except that instead of in front of a Christmas tree, it happened to be on top of a wooly camel.

I’ve thrown in a few extras I snapped of other tourists getting their camel experience. Enjoy.

These poor girls started screaming the second their dad put them up on the camel. I broke the camera out just a few seconds too late, but at least you all can still enjoy the look of betrayal and utter fear on their faces with me. . . sad but funny. It reminded me of watching kids getting on Santa's lap at the mall... the things parents do for a good photo.

I love this one... I think the camel is asking, "Okay, who's next?"

And two more happy tourists hop on.

Things I LOVE about Turkey - The Pazar

Do you see this?

I LOVE it!

Almost every neighborhood in Turkey has a weekly fruit and veggie market. It's kind of like the Farmer's Market that I used to go to in my college town in California. Except on steroids. It's really really really big. Speaking of big... can you see that pile of veggies in my picture? No. . . it isn't the camera angle. . . those veggies really are piled about 12 feet high.
The pazar in our neighborhood happens every Saturday in a big covered concrete lot about the size of a football field. It's chalk full of colorful, fresh, delicious fruits and veggies. Turks are amazing at arranging things in an attractive way, and the result is that you (or at least I) want to visit every booth (and there are rows and rows and rows of them) and buy a little of almost everything.

Don't those carrots look delicious? And did you see the size of the cabbages? They're bigger than watermelons! I've always wanted to buy one of those big cabbages, but I have no idea what I'd do with the 4/5 of it that would be left over after I made coleslaw.
My parents came to visit and I took them to the pazar. They just stood and stared in awe. . . Or maybe it was jet lag. . .
The thing about the pazar is that you have to buy most things in bulk. . . I usually ask for a kilo or two. The first time James and I went to a pazar, he tried to buy one apple. The seller just looked at him then rolled his eyes, muttered something, and handed it over. Apparently it wasn't even worth going to the trouble of weighing it.
Yumm! Apples and grapes. And can you see those super red tomatoes in the background? I wish I had taken a shot of them. They are so so so sweet and delicious, they don't even resemble those tasteless things I would buy at the supermarket in the States.

Mmmmmm!

I love it!

Baklava Overdose

There's a holiday coming up. Kids will go door to door and get candy. People will eat sweets and drink cola until they've had enough to keep them on a sugar/caffeine buzz for days to come.


I'm not talking about Halloween.


It's Seker Bayrami... the Sugar Holiday!!


At the end of the month of Ramazan, people celebrate for three days straight by getting together and eating. Isn't that what you'd like to do after a month of fasting? I know I would. Kids get new clothes, sometimes ridiculously nice clothes, like pristine white suits for a 7 year old boys. Women spend the last week or so of the Ramazan cleaning their homes from top to bottom and cooking up all sorts of delicious treats, especially baklava. And then the day finally comes. No one goes to work. Kids get up early, wondering what time they can start knocking on all of the doors to collect candy. All the men go to the mosque for the early morning prayers, and a few hours later the fun begins.


Turks dress in nice new clothes and begin making visits by order of importance. They'll start with their oldest relatives then work their way down. By the second and third day they're visiting neighbors and friends.

The last few years we've taken part in the festivities by visiting scores of friends and neighbors. I always half dread /half look forward to it, and James always LOVES it. The Sugar Holiday is one of James' favorite times of year because: 1) He loves baklava. 2) He loves cola. 3) He loves baklava, and 4) He loves cola.

Here's a picture of what a typical day of making bayram (holiday) visits looks like:

6:30 am: wake up (not by our choice but because our kids absolutely can't sleep past 6:30)
7:00 am: breakfast of fresh bread (delivered to our door that morning by the building door man), tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, olives, and tea. This is the typical Turkish breakfast, eaten by all Turks every morning of every day. We don't eat it every day, but for some reason we always eat it on Turkish holidays.
8:00 am: We all start getting dressed up in nice clothes. James wears slacks, a nice shirt with a tie, and shiny shoes that he'll complain about the rest of the day. I wear a skirt, blouse, nylons, nice shoes that I'll complain about the rest of the day, and gold jewelry (gold is very very important to Turks, I talk a little about it here, and I'll put a whole post up about it in the future). The girls wear dresses and we tuck a change of clothes into a diaper bag for each of them because we know they'll soon be covered in chocolate.
8:30 am: The early bird building kids are up ringing doorbells and collecting candy. We open the door to be greeted by a bunch of nicely dressed smiling kids yelling "Iyi Bayramlar!" (translation: Happy Holidays!) and holding out their little sticky sugar covered fingers for some candy (or money... but we never give money).
9:00 am: We can hear neighbors stirring - going in and out of homes and up and down the elevator, so we venture out as a family for our first visit of the day. We always go to the old woman in the apartment below us first. I don't know her name. Everybody calls her Haci Anne. That means mother who has gone on the haj (the trip to Mecca that all Muslims are supposed to take at some point in their life). It's not that she's actually gone on the haj. It's just that she's so old that she probably could have. Since she's the oldest, out of respect we visit her first. Here's how it goes: Haci Anne's granddaughter Tuna (yes, her name is Tuna. She's my age.) opens the door to let us in. I kiss her on each cheek and James shakes her hand. We're shown into the salon (the nicest and most richly decorated room in the house, saved just for when guests visit), where Haci Anne is waiting for us. We say "Iyi Bayramlar!" (Happy Holidays!) and kiss her on the back of her hand then touch it to our foreheads. She says "Hos geldiniz! Hos geldiniz yavrum!" (Welcome, welcome my little baby animals! - kind of like saying my dears) and then we all sit down. After a few rounds of how are you and how are all your relatives, her granddaughter brings a bottle of lemon cologne around and douses our hands with it. We rub them together and then they're all clean, disinfected, and lemony fresh! Then Tuna brings out the baklava and the cola. The baklava is homemade (made by Tuna supervised by Haci Anne) and the cola is served in a wine glass.

This time we're also really lucky because in addition to the baklava, there are also stuffed grape leaves (I'm salivating as I write this... my neighbor's stuffed grape leaves are absolutely sublime! I don't know what sublime means, but I can't think of any other word to describe the succulent deliciousness that these stuffed grape leaves embody.) There are also some hard cookies and some other sort of soft syrupy cookie with a hazelnut in the middle. Haci Anne goes all out for bayrams. We eat up all our food, say thank you, chat a little longer, then say, "With your permission we're going to get up now." She says, "But we were sitting so nicely!" (These are the set sayings that everyone says at the end of a visit.) And then she motions to Tuna who brings out some more baklava, and a beautifully wrapped chocolate for each member of our family. James eats his, I put mine in the diaper bag to save it for later. Elise is covered in olive oil from devouring stuffed grape leaves. Since she's grown up in Turkey, she senses good stuffed grape leaves when she gets them, and she goes into vacuum cleaner mode, eating as many as her little belly can hold, and only stopping when someone gives her a piece of chocolate. Elise unwraps the chocolate, and eats it up (all the while I'm cringing and wiping her as quickly as possible because she has olive oil and chocolate covered fingers and is sitting on a white sofa). I forgot to mention that Marie also gets handed a piece of chocolate. Never mind that she's only 3 months old. It's a holiday, so she's given a chocolate too. I generally say thank you and put it into the diaper bag, but sometimes if a neighbor or friend is holding her they actually unwrap it and try to feed it to her!
9:20 am (That's right! That whole sugar and stuffed grape leaf eating fest was only 20 minutes long!): We again ask permission to go, and this time we get it, although it's always given reluctantly. We make our way out into the hallway then up one flight of stairs to ring our next-door neighbor's doorbell. They open the door, we all yell "Iyi Bayramlar!" And the whole baklava-and-chocolate-eating-cola-drinking-frenzy starts all over again. We repeat this process over and over throughout the morning. The same greetings, the same questions, the same almost everything. Sometimes we're only offered baklava and cola. Sometimes we're offered an assortment of other Turkish goodies alongside the baklava, but the basic visit is always the same. Bayram visits are almost always just 15-25 minutes long. You pack them in. It's more of a courtesy than a time to really get to know somebody.

12:00 noon: We have completed 5 or 6 bayram visits, our teeth our covered with sugary sweaters. We decide to go home for a lunch break and to give the kids naps. The only problem is that we don't want lunch. We're stuffed. We try to feed Elise something somewhat nutritious to counter-balance the sugar she's consumed all morning (Haci Anne's stuffed grape leaves were the only non-sugary thing we've eaten all day). Elise is stuffed too. She doesn't want cheese or sandwich. She's exhausted, but high on sugar. We try our best to get her to take a nap anyway. Every time she's almost asleep our doorbell rings and we open it for kids yelling "Iyi bayramlar!" and holding our their hands for candy.
1:30 pm: James and I decide who else we'd like to visit. Some people we visit because they're our friends and some people we visit because they'd probably be offended if we didn't. We're about to leave the house and press on in the visits when Elise finally falls asleep. We tape a bunch of napkins over our door bell ringer so that the sound is muffled and pretending not to be home, we don't answer the door when kids or neighbors come knocking.
4:00 pm: We've taken naps too. Now we're ready to hit the streets again and make more visits. We change the kids clothes and head out.
10:30 pm: We get home from our final visit of the day and carry our sleeping kids to their beds. We brush our teeth, but it just doesn't seem to cut it. Everyone goes to sleep and has strange dreams about floating on pieces of baklava in a cola sea.


The next day looks very similar, and by the third day we're at home more. The third day of the holiday some friends and neighbors come to visit us. Since we're young, and we're not any body's relative, we're pretty low on the totem pole when it comes to visiting order. I serve store-bought baklava (I have no idea how to make the stuff), some homemade cookies, and cola to our guests. We douse their hands with lemon cologne and give them fancy chocolates.

By the end of the three day holiday, I don't want to see another piece of baklava for the rest of my life. When James and I first moved to Turkey we were in the habit of going to a shop and buying baklava for dessert every couple of weeks. After our first Seker Bayrami (our first experience overdosing on baklava), we didn't buy any for an entire year. Now we usually go a few months after Seker Bayrami trying our best to avoid the stuff and then we start buying it again when guests come over.

Since we're in America right now and far far away from the feeding frenzy that's going on in Turkey, James is dying for some baklava. Anybody know a good recipe?

I love this about Turkey... child friendly restaurants

A few weeks ago we went out to eat at one of the nicest restaurants in town. Elise didn't sit at the table with us. Most of the time she was running around between our table and the play area, singing at the top of her lungs. A lot of the time even Marie wasn't at our table. The owner of the restaurant picked her up and carried her around, showing her to kids, other customers, waiters, and cooks.

That experience is a perfect picture of one thing I love about life here. Kids can just be kids, even at restaurants. People just accept it. They smile at Elise and at us when she walks by their table singing. They think its cute. I really don't know what it's like to go out to eat with little kids in the US, but I have a feeling it's nothing like this. I can't imagine people being happy about my kids running between their tables. I really can't imagine the restaurant owner taking our baby so we can eat in peace, and I'm having a hard time picturing the other diners being happy about the restaurant owner bringing a baby over for them to see while they're eating.

That's really a bummer because I love food in America. When we are there (which is only one month away!) I want to eat out. I really really do. I want to have burritos and pizza and steak. I want to have hamburgers and Chinese and Italian food. Am I going to have to train my 3 year old to sit still and quiet while I eat my meal? Am I going to have to take care of my baby rather than pass her on to a waiter or manager? How am I going to eat in peace? Why oh why don't Americans just let kids be kids?

I love this about Turkey... the fruit and veggie market

Our building is 12 stories tall. Each floor has 3 flats, that makes 36 families living here. A lot of those families aren't just mom dad and kids. They are grandma, grandpa, unmarried uncles and aunts, plus mom, dad, and kids. If I felt like doing the math, I could tell you approximately how many people are packed into this building with us, but as I showed in my last post, I'm lazy, so that's not gonna happen. Even without me doing the math, you can imagine that each building is basically like an entire street of homes in suburban America. One block here holds seven or eight suburban American blocks worth of people, many of whom don't have cars. Having this many people all stacked up on top of each other has quite a few advantages. For example, I never need to get in the car to do my basic shopping (fruits, veggies, basic groceries, bread). There are shops in the bottom of every building, so I have access to all sorts of things. Here are just a few of the shops within a one block distance of my home: 5 hair dressers (that's a low estimate), 3 grocers, a copy machine place, 8 pharmacies (we have a ton of them right here since a hospital is across the street), a kids clothing shop, a butcher, a restaurant, a bakery, and a fruit and vegetable shop, oh, and I almost forgot, there's also Target, Starbucks, and a place that sells hot dogs. Okay, so I wasn't completely honest about those last three, but a girl can dream, can't she? Now even without all that Starbucks business, wouldn't you like to have all those things at your fingertips rather than a car ride away??

The other day James and I took a little walk to pick up some groceries. I snapped some shots in the manav (the fruit and veggie store).

I love this place! It's so colorful!

The fruits and vegetable assortment changes with the season. I can't wait for the strawberries and cherries... and for the white mocha frapachino grande! Oooops, sorry dreaming again....We buy produce by the kilogram here. All this stuff is cheaper than it is in America, and tastier!

We don't even have to mess with touching our fruit until we get home. Here's how it works, we ask for whatever we want and the manav man picks it out and weights it for us... watch!

James: Bir kilo portakal lutfen. (One kilogram of oranges please.)

Doesn't James have great pronunciation??

Manav man: Tamam. (Okay.) Do you see him hopping to it?! That's the kind of effect James has on people. Or maybe it's just the guys job, but either way that was impressive.

Impressive and exciting... Elise is just worn out from all the excitement.

I love the manav!

Old Ruins

Turkey is neat.

Something you may not know about Turkey is that it has approximately 546,378,002 more historical sites than the United States. Take, for instance the amazing cave churches and networks of underground cities of Cappadocia, or the Hittite ruins about a 20 minute drive from our house (of course, that's not so old. Just the 18th century B.C.). I'm not exaggerating when I say that there is impressive old stuff all over the place around here. And I don't mean old as in Laura Ingles Wilder's house is old, and impressive as in the California Missions are impressive. I mean ancient history, miles of marble columns and walkways, looking at the things you just read about in the Bible (Old and New Testament!) old and impressive.

So, we get lots of chances to bum around and look at old stuff. Every time we do it I wish I could remember the things I learned in history classes growing up a bit better. This week we went on a quick trip to ancient Ephesus with some friends.

I like ruins.

I like messing with archeologists. I take big chunks of marble and move them all around. It makes it harder to reconstruct things. Hee hee hee.

This is the stadium mentioned in Acts 19. Can't you almost see it filled with people angry at Paul and shouting, "Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!" You can't tell from this picture, but it's HUGE, it can seat something like 20,000 people! And it's in great condition. Elton John did a concert in it a few years ago.

Can you believe the houses in this town had running water and flush toilets 2000 years ago! Wow those guys were smart back then!

So, who's ready to come visit us?