How to make the most of the last day of The Big Trip?

Mama-style: Get us on a tour boat on the Bosphorus for relaxation, warbled historical lecture occasionally in English), and views of the palaces built by sultans when they got tired of the Topkapi Palace.

Younger’s style: hang out below deck of tour boat but refuse to look out the window. Their loss.

We started the day by walking the scenic way to the Covid clinic, as we were flying home on the second-to-last day of needing proof of negative tests to enter the US. We checked out the local coffee franchise for strength to continue our walk down to the wharf. It should be noted that after 8 days in Egypt drinking (or gnawing on) Turkish coffee with Mohammad, Dwayne really couldn’t stomach more than one cup of the authentic slop in Istanbul. Wes, our other household coffee drinker, who had gone from “sipsies” before the trip to ordering full-size afternoon cappuccinos for himself by the time we hit Italy, was also unable to stomach the Turkish version. I cried uncle right away and just went for the beer. 😉

Kyla, Dwayne, and I had one more item on our Istanbul Bucket List–a Turkish bath. I went in not completely sure what I was getting into but knowing I was going to enjoy it. The tension arose from, when being in a country where Kyla and I had to wear a headscarf in addition to modest clothing the day before, to how naked to get for a public bath. Let’s just say I had to go commando on the walk back to our apartment because I guessed wrong.

The entire experience was a lovely dream. It began with a mud mask and steam room before a full body scrub and deep massage, and finished with a cool water swim. It was heavenly and I must do it again.

For dinner, I wanted to do small dishes anywhere that sounded good as we explored the shopping promenade rumored to be in the direction Dwayne and I hadn’t yet explored. Wes and Piper went back after our first round of tapas, leaving the adventurous ones to explore the Thursday evening nightlife in the area–and it was fabulous!

We found our promenade right away and it began with a concert on a tram. The star played for a few minutes before waving goodbye as the tram took her further down to the next wave of fans. Decorative lights, exuberant crowds and new sights and smells made for a very festive atmosphere and Kyla barely got lost each time she stopped to dance to the music or give coins to a busker. I did the “ice cream trick” thing for the experience though the product itself was possibly the worst ice cream I’ve ever tasted. We had to cut our evening short when the youngers couldn’t turn the key hard enough to get into the apartment. Sigh.

We had a few hours the next morning before the van was supposed to pick us up, so Dwayne accompanied me on one last excursion–climbing the Galata Tower, which not only had great views, but also a museum of historical Istanbul. One of ah ha’s for me was this remnant of the Golden Horn chain:

The Golden Horn is the waterway that was the strength and weakness of mighty Constantinople. Strong, because it made the city a perfect location for trade. Weak, because where trading ships can enter, so can enemies. An enormous chain was forged, stretching from tower to tower across the water, in the 9th century. Eventually, complicated pulleys and magic allowed it to be raised and lowered, a bit like a drawbridge. It worked well to keep enemy ships out. It even worked well when enemy ships “pottaged” — landed, rolled foot by food over logs around the chain and then set back in the water. The Byzantines just set some of their old ships on fire and sent them out to engulf the invaders, who couldn’t escape because the damn chain was in their way. But the Ottomans, in 1453, somehow pottaged successfully and used gun power to get through the previously impregnable land walls. That last breech is considered the dying breath of the Middle Ages–and the end of the Roman Empire.

And thus ends my final history lesson before leaving for the airport. See you soon, Mom & Dad!

We had hoped to spend more time in Turkey, but my Great Croatian Knee Adventure changed our timeline so that we got only two and a half days in Istanbul. Luckily, Dwayne and I are great with half days!

Of all the places we got to explore, I rated Instanbul as “Most Exotic”. Not only does it straddle Europe and Asia, but it has …. Turkish baths. Sigh of happiness.

We had an excellent location, Europe-side, just a few blocks from Galata Tower. (I had never heard of it, but I mention it so I can find it again when we return.) Dwayne and I took our half-day to wander down by the waterfront and figure out public transportation, that, like Washington State, includes lots of ferries. We figured it out in enough time to be only 10 minutes late for our first family tour–a walk-and-taste tour on the Asian side of Istanbul. And the views were pretty great.

I had scheduled a full-day tour for Wednesday, which turned out to be a half-day too long. Again, think hard before signing up to be besties with new guide for a day, especially when you have no choice in who shows up. However, we mostly got to do most of the must-sees, and got a bonus.

First, here’s my take on the history of Istanbul-not-Constantinople. When Constantine chose this city to be made the new seat of the Roman empire, he left Rome to the popes (and you see where that got the world). The western Roman Empire petered out not long afterward, but the eastern Byzantine Empire lasted another thousand years, eventually losing out to the Ottomans. Dwayne and I wondered how THE EASTERN ROMAN EMPIRE (aka, the Byzantines), who had not been conquered for 1400 years, lost to the Ottomans. Kyla, with 1 semester of AP World History and a brain for the why of things, was able to explain to us that the Ottomans had superior use of gunpowder. No surprise, she was right.

Here’s an important thing about the Ottomans: they had sultans. Sultans were just like emperors, kings, pharaohs, medieval popes, and orange presidents: self-serving and dictatorial. Mostly this meant lavish lifestyles in decadent palaces wearing splendid clothes while being tended to by yes-men, a word which until recently, didn’t need to be de-genderized. Perhaps the biggest difference between sultans and other patriarchs is the wearing the turbans (instead of other funny hats) and ostentatiously reading the Koran, instead of pretending to read the Bible.** And sultans lived in places like Topkapi Palace (at least until it got boring and newer, bigger, better palaces were built):

We also visited the Hagia Sophia, the Holy Wisdom, an Eastern Orthodox church-cum-mosque-cum-museum-cum-mosque** again.

We had hoped to explore the Blue Mosque as well, but it was closed for renovations. But that gave us more than enough time to visit something not on the Top Ten tourist sights–an old city cistern that does subterranean laser shows.

Not counting food, we fit in one more adventure that day. We went to the Grand Bazaar, which Wikipedia describes as 1) one of the world’s most visited attractions and 2) one of the largest and oldest covered markets. It is listed as having 61 streets and 4,000 shops, accomplishing being both superlative and superfluous simultaneously. Turkish delight, tea, and a few casual necklaces are all that hopped into the shopping bag that day before us introverts got overwhelmed. We then “just stopped by to use the restroom” at a Turkish carpet emporium, which felt like an ambush by both our guide and the salesman. I did turn down the beautiful rock-bottom-priced $5000 carpet because, well I’m not sure I need a reason to not bring home a large, expensive rug, no matter how plush and beautiful.

In 1.5 days, we hit Istanbul pretty hard. We have just another day and a half before flying home. What other trouble could we get into, one might politely ask….

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*I really don’t think I’m being too harsh here.

**It was reverted back to a mosque in 2020, signaling that Turkish secularism is on the decline in this “religious” strongman throwback era. I have feelings.

We landed in Istanbul this afternoon! Tomorrow, we do a “When Europe Meets Asia” full-day tour. I’m blogging about Croatia now and then will catch up on Greece. Whatever I don’t finish in the next few evenings, I get to complete during our 12-hour flight home this Friday.

Love,

Denise

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…you spend time just being sad. Liza died yesterday, and her family and her many, many, many friends will miss her for the rest of our lives.

…I’m not sure if it would be filed under quirky fantasy or trashy romance.

For instance, here is a crappy picture of the island taxis.

White convertibles. Seriously. Here you have a choice of purple, blue or pink leather interior. Please note, you must be a partying, rich 20-something on extra-loud mode to ride this ride.

There’s the funky chair lift from Anacapri* that takes you to the tippy top, with hiking trails, cafe, and views.

There’s some fun art installments to add some whimsy to the two types of shops: stupid souvenir tchotchkes and elite designer brands stores that are somehow worse.

And then you come across a “street” that is so quiet and perfect that even *I* slow down my steps and savor the stroll. You find white-cushioned, hidden restaurant patios that would trap you for hours in bliss if you didn’t have a boat to catch.

But there is a boat to catch.

It sails around the island, and once again, my trusty sidekick and I jump into water that is much, much colder than it looks. Luckily, we missed all the stinging jellyfish that got the other couple stupid enough to jump in.

Capri. It can’t be a real place. I think it tries to be the realization of what perfection is thought to be, from the white Cadillacs to the Coach purses to the Capri blue waters. But we’re actually quite happy with some gelato stains, a daypack, and our own two feet. And even too-thin towels when we are cold and drenched!

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*Capri is both the island’s name and the small town near sea level and Anacapri is the smaller town near the top that can only be reached by the Mama Mia road. Mama Mia has almost enough room for two cars side by side on its wider parts. It’s the ribbon cut into the side you see here:

Yes, this deserves its own blog post.

We delayed our departure by a few days so Piper could spend her 14^th birthday at home.  We still like to tell the story of her almost being named “Cheese” over her requested dinner of steak and Caesar salad.  I had a dream while I was pregnant that Dwayne missed this birth, too (No, I will not stop bringing that up, Dwayne) and in retaliation, I named her Cheese.  After a third trimester of “the baby is coming” drills, Dwayne was in bed with me when the contractions started, and now she is called one-who-pipes instead of one-who-is-stinky-and-delicious. Piper exemplifies everything I want in an adult and a few of the things I want in a teen I’m supposed to be raising.  She went from a kid who likes arts and crafts to a genuine artist and crafter. The pink platypus is what she crocheted right before we left so she’d have a friend on the trip, and the top is something she experimented with one weekend. She is perfectly horrid to Wes until he is struggling and then she is the first to patiently take care of him.  I think what I enjoy most about Piper is her clever banter and dry sense of humor—and our mutual appreciation of musicals.  I brought this girl to life and love her to death.  I present to you, 14 year old Piper. 

All I knew of Quito before landing there was that it was about 9,300 feet above sea level (though so topographically mountainous that I don’t know what point is flat enough to measure!). Many people experience altitude sickness their first few days; we were fortunate in that we got away with wheezing up any incline, which we totally attribute to the nearly-two-miles-above-sea-level.

I quickly and whole-heartedly fell in love with the capital of Ecuador. We stayed in Old Town at the beginning and end of our time in this country, and its strong European-Latin American fusion awoke my adventurous self while Dwayne and I urban-hiked (huffed?) our way around this area that was conquistador-ed and colonized in the early 1500s before it won its independence in 1820. Quito has cathedrals like Seattle has Starbucks…if coffee stands were around 300-500 years ago.

We eventually lured our children out of the hotel with promises of dessert. Quito gave me another reason to crush on it– my fruit cup came with Ecuadorian cream (thicker, lightly flavored with berries) and grated mozzarella, which should immediately be adopted by the Global Committee of Fine Desserts.

It’s so fun to explore at Christmas time, with extra lights and energetic crowds. We climbed to the top of the basilica, a newbie at only 100 years old–and it had the first heart-shaped window I have seen, as well as gargoyles that represent the most famous Galapagos animals. (They would have tried Amazon animals but no one could find them…she snarked bitterly.) A city of 3 million people, we explored only the smallest fraction, but we ventured out far enough for some pickpocket attempts. But I was never scared or disappointed, just exhilarated by this historical and beautiful city in the mountains.

On our very last night, Kyla wanted street food for dessert. She and I went out with just a few coins in our pockets to the “largest outdoor dollar store”–everything, from baby chicks, mangos, wrapping paper, and candy, is packaged is dollar-sized packages. Kyla got her cake and strawberries to sweeten the end of our adventure.

Just a last note about Patio Andaluz: our hotel for our first and last nights– oh my goodness! A half-block from the heartbeat of Old Town, the location was perfect, but the hotel was more than location. I love the Spanish-influenced interior courtyards and gardens. I found so many great nooks to curl up and read, and they had two different kettles that always were ready to make me a cup of tea. There were daily arrangements of flirtatious flowers and a place for a game of chess or cribbage, and of course, soft pillows to rest our jet-lagged heads!

This is a place worth returning to…when I’m done exploring the rest of the world!