Friday after class, instead of our normal conversation hour, we all went down to Ortaköy and ate some kumpir on the rooftop of a moderately priced restaurant. Kumpir, for those who haven't heard me rave about it before, is the Turks' take on the baked potato. They actually scoop out the contents, mix them with cheese and butter, and put them back in before loading it up with anything and everything you'd want. I had olives, olive spread, beet sauce, and much, much more. They gave us all order sheets, like at a sushi restaurant, where we would check off the stuff we wanted. In the name box I wrote "Cihangir," instead of Kevin. Cihangir is easily the most kickass Turkish name, apart from Ayhan (Lord of the Moon), because it means, quite simply, "Conqueror of the World." When we handed the waiter our slips, he looked through them and asked "Who is Cihangir?" I said "I am. Nice to meet you." He laughed and shook his head, and did the same when he handed me my potato. My guess is that it's not really a common name, but rather reserved for those in history who have actually conquered the world.
My bad.
After lunch we walked to Beşiktaş to sit and chat on the sixth floor of a cafe overlooking the main drag in the neighborhood. We had cherry mixed with bubble gum-flavored tobacco, and it was really nice. While there, I learned a children's rhyme that you can say for no reason. It's more of a play on people's names, except it means "Lord (Name) shit on the rock, and the rock broke from end to end." Pretty classy. The Turks have a thing for shits breaking rocks. They have a saying for a big shit that translates as "cracking the marble." In other news, this morning I saw an elderly man pissing in plain sight as I rode past Dolmabahçe Palace on the bus. I wonder if anyone said anything to him, or if that is just another privilege you get here upon retiring, like getting a seat on the bus.
Friday night we all stayed in and watched that shitty "Ottoman Republic" movie again. It was just as bad the second time, but I caught more of the dialogue in the absence of the bus engine's noise. After the movie, at around 9:00pm, someone rang the doorbell on my friend Ryan's apartment. It was a man, probably in his 40s, American, and looking generally concerned. I immediately asked if he wanted us to keep it down (we were laughing pretty hard at the movie), and he said yes, but also that he wanted whomever had vomited out their window and into his living room below to never do it again. Wow. When Ryan and I closed the door, we turned and looked at his roommate, who was sitting on the couch.
Me, to Ryan's roommate: "What the fuck did you do last night? Did you puke into that man's living room?"
Roommate: "No!"
Ryan: "What did you do last night?"
Roommate: "I passed out on this couch." NOTE: COUCH IS RIGHT NEXT TO THE WINDOW.
Me: "Is it really a stretch to believe you stood up and vomited out the window?"
Roommate: "I have no memory of doing it."
Ryan: "You just said you passed out."
Roommate: "I also don't remember the cab ride home..."
Ryan: "You are fucking getting them some nice baklava. Tomorrow."
That was the extent of Friday night. We then went upstairs to the girls' rooms and chatted, and eventually ordered some mantı, that tasty Turkish lasagna stuff. It's pretty heavy food, and I felt like it was a bad idea as soon as I started eating it. Forgetting that, I went to bed and set my alarm for 8:00am, so that I could make the ARIT boat trip in the morning.
By the time we got down to Bebek to meet our boat, I was feeling like a piece of shit that could crack the marble. I couldn't tell which way the catastrophe was coming, only that it was. We boarded the boats, and made our way north up the Bosphorus toward Yoros Castle, aka The Genoese Castle (MISNOMER!). The boat ride actually helped a lot, as the movement of the boat on the water was really soothing. Our boat came dangerously close to hitting a huge tanker, but hey, the captain must be a professional, right? We docked at Anadolu Kavağı and began the torturous ascent to the castle, which sits on a hilltop many hundreds of feet above the straits. The weather wasn't as hot as it could have been, but the walk, which was probably a mile long and up a slope that even cars have a hard time with. Needless to say, when we got to the top, I wasn't feeling like standing in the sunlight with the rest of the group while our guide explained the design of the place and its history. I could hear just fine from the shadows with the stray dogs sitting near me on the ground. I stayed there after they all went into the castle, and pretended to be fiddling with my camera while other Turks passed by, so they didn't think I was a fucking creep. Then I summoned the strength to get up, walked into the castle, sat near the group again, walked a bit more, and then made my retreat. I noticed yesterday that right before I am about to vomit with 100% certainty, my salivary glands go into overdrive. So once I felt that, I knew I was in trouble.
I made a move toward the exit and huddled down next to the wall in a place with a gorgeous view of the Black Sea and the mouth of the Bosphorus, and proceeded to violently empty the contents of my stomach beside a castle built almost a thousand years ago out of stones first carved 2200 years ago.
This was my view.
The good news, though, is that I felt a lot better afterwards. Well enough to joke about it, even! Har har har. Right after puking, while I was washing my mouth out with water, a Turkish guy walked through the tiny hole in the wall to enter the castle, and left his cooler outside. I grabbed it and handed it to him through the hole. When I came through, he said "I thought you were a foreigner," to which I replied "But I am a foreigner!" And then we chatted for a bit about what the hell I was doing there, of all places. I met up with the group again and we headed down the hill, and I was all happy about how great I was feeling after erupting, Pompeii style, on the castle grounds.
This turned out to be a mistake, and I am certain that Zeus, whose temple remains were used to build the castle, must have heard me boasting about how it wasn't so bad, because after we boated a bit further up the straits to our lunch location, I almost immediately ran to the bathroom and did a low-budget sequel to the smash hit original release. It was the worst meal of my life. I had to sit there, miserable, and watch people eat and drink for two hours. I tried to sleep, but couldn't, and then it started to rain. I was waiting for a dog to bite me, or a midget to kick me in the shins. Fortunately that didn't happen, and as soon as we got the signal to go, I hustled as fast as my now-weak legs could carry me back to the boat and promptly fell asleep in the hold. I stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, sleeping, with one brief interval in which ARIT Director Dr. Greenwood and I chatted about "Ice Truckers" and "Deadliest Catch." Then he and the Byzantine expert professor from Penn told me about some of the cooler shipping disasters to befall the Bosphorus in their lifetimes, the majority of which have been spent in the city.
After we arrived, I got off and immediately started recruiting folks for a cab back home. Then one of the ship-children said they found keys, which were mine, and fortunately tossed them to me from the boat. Last time I was here, there was some concern that I had forgotten my iPod onboard. What the hell is wrong with me? Ryan and I cabbed it back (which reminds me, I owe him money) and I immediately went to bed. It was 5:00pm. I woke up today at 9:00am. I will finish the tale later, but suffice it to say, I feel a lot better after 16 hours' sleep.
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