new words, and hitting pause

Married life is just the same lovely life as it was before the wedding, but with a new ring and new words like husband, and wife. Our wedding was sweet, simple, and quick— were it not for the photos I could swear it was all just a dream. I don't know how I got so lucky.



I left you in Urfa last, where I still have a lot of photos to share and dare I say, some sketches as well. I also have a few photos from Portugal, and these I took in Istanbul yesterday. When you put a pause on certain things like blogging, life speeds away and it gets hard to keep a sense of coherence. I still have not shared much of last summer in Nepal (which was full of amazing things), but alas, time has slipped right by me. This I should do soon, as I will be back beneath the Stupa's gaze before I know it.



So let's get back to Urfa after this post.

across the golden horn

He claimed he wasn't a dolmuş, but we paid this grey-moustached gentleman five lira to ferry us across the Golden Horn from Karaköy to Eminönü in his little red boat.

by the golden horn

Hello, home.

body worlds

If you haven't been to the Body Worlds exhibit at Antrepo 3 in Karaköy yet, you'd better bust a move. The show ends on the 17th, and is beyond fascinating— real human bodies preserved through a plastification process, posed and sculpted for maximum impact and beauty. This exhibit is a must for any artist interested in the human form.

may fifteenth

black & white

While we are waiting for the polls to close on the Fluevog Creative competition, I thought I'd share some black and white photographs I took yesterday in Karaköy and Tophane, which are right at the mouth of the Golden Horn, across from the old city.

Speaking of black and white photography, there's this gorgeous 75 lira book at Robinson Crusoe 389 that I have been in love with for the past several months— Ara Güler's Istanbul. Ara Güler is an incredible Turkish photojournalist who considers himself a "visual historian"— he captures fleeting, forgotten moments in time that tell a story beyond current events. His rich black and white photographs feel more like memories to me; which is why I am so drawn to his work. When I sketch, I love catching those unimportant minutes of someone's life that will most likely never be remembered— daydreaming on the metro, laughing with a friend over coffee, reading a paper on a Wednesday afternoon. Our lives are made up of all these hours, minutes and seconds that pass so quietly; insignificant in the face of larger events.

The photographs in Ara Güler's Istanbul move me, grab me, and allow me to catch a glimpse of lives I will never know. There's this image of a man— I don't know the page number, because I take pleasure in finding him each time— an older gentleman with the kindest, shining eyes and a thin smile. Wrinkles emphasise some emotion that looks like momentary happiness or bemusement— closed hands up to his chin, a clear class bottle on the table in front of him. The moment is so ephemeral, that I almost forget what it looks like myself, which is why every time I walk down Istiklal Caddesi, I sneak into Robinson Crusoe and search for the beautiful man with the bottle. I should just buy the book— but I've made a ritual out of visiting it and slowly turning the pages in silence from cover to cover. There's also this picture of a young girl in a flowered dress, enjoying a lolly in front of a house where two women are joyously laughing in the window... oh I could go on! Any lover of portraits must have this book in their library— and I highly recommend that sketchers check it out too. It's simply beautiful.

Alright. We're one hour and a half away from finding out if I've won the competition. At 63.2%, it's looking quite promising!

sunday brunch

What's a more perfect way to spend a Sunday than having brunch with a dear friend at a fabulous café, followed by a spontaneous visit to a modern art museum?

Tilly took me out to Namlı Gurme, a gourmet delicatessen/café in Karaköy right next door to the Güllüoğlu Baklava Café I raved about last month. A line out the door, people happily chatting away, enjoying large plates of cheeses, olives and cured meats— warm light bouncing off hanging red sausages and chilies— men in white jackets zipping from customer to customer behind glass cases of more cheese and various stuffed vegetables and other delicacies.

We shared a table with a very sweet Turkish couple, and unsure of the ordering procedure, we waited around wide-eyed like tourists, until a perky waiter informed us we were meant to go up to the glass cases and select what we wanted. What to choose? We followed our bellies and began gleefully pointing at anything and everything that caught out eyes.


Red chillies stuffed with white cheese, lentil patties with parsley, black-eyed peas salad, veggie egg fritters, bulghur tomato pilaf, brussel sprouts, cheeses and olives— oh my! I also couldn't resist choosing a mysterious fried oblong patty that turned out to be meat— there were a lot of white bits in it, so I'm not sure exactly where that meat was from, but it was delicious.


This humble café at the mouth of the Golden Horn has been delighting customers since 1929— and I've decided that there is no way you can visit Istanbul without stopping by. And why not grab a little baklava next door at Güllüoğlu Baklava while you're at it? What a treat. It's no wonder Namlı Gurme was just named "Istanbul's Best Breakfast" by TimeOut Magazine.

After contenting our bellies, we forced ourselves to brave the cold, wet February afternoon and walk the five minutes to Istanbul Modern, the Istanbul's modern art museum. IM has a modest yet lovely permanent collection that visually documents the history of Turkish modern art. The temporary exhibits can be quite something— although this time I was a little disappointed. I just have a hard time with video art. The museum is housed in a former shipping warehouse behind the stunning Nusretiye Camii in Tophane, right where the Bosphorus meets the Golden Horn. There's a marvellous view of Topkapi Palace, Aya Sofya and Sultanahmet across the water. I would have loved to show you some pictures— I had to stealthily snap these since it is strictly forbidden to take any photos inside IM, and I don't relish the idea of being kicked out of museums.

breakfast to baklava

When Aurel told me there was an organic farmers' market in Istanbul, I felt a tiny palpitation of excitement. When my friend Tilly said, "Oh yeah! The organic market!" I thought, why the hell haven't I heard of this until now?

That's life in Istanbul. There's always something hidden around the corner for you to discover.

After meeting up with Tilly at the Osmanbey metro station, we weaved through a labyrinth of streets to an area called Bomonti. My navigation skills were thoroughly challenged— I'm still not quite sure how we got there, but I have a general sense of the direction we headed in— and it seemed that all of a sudden, I spied some yellow tarps in a car park that screamed "market."

As soon as we stepped into the market, I spied Aurel sitting at a table with his lovely lady. We sat down for a slow, chatty breakfast of menemen, which is kind of like saucy scrambled eggs, and a traditional kahvaltı, which consists of a boiled egg, cheese, olives, honey, butter, tomatoes and cucumbers, and bread. Everything we ate came from the market— fresh, organic, and bursting with flavour.


After our third or so çay we said our see-you-laters, and Tilly and I wandered around the stands, waiting for my dear friend Nuri, who was back in town. We figured enough time had passed between all the chatting and browsing to sit at another table and sample the whole wheat gözleme.



Needless to say it was incredible, and when Nuri arrived, we stayed for more çay and conversation. As it can happen, the topic of baklava was brought up. The three of us hopped on the metro to Taksim, then trekked down to bustling Karaköy, to Karaköy Güllüoğlu Baklava Café, rumoured to have the best baklava in Istanbul. The Güllüoğlu family has been dishing out the most sumptuous syrupy treats since 1871, and Istanbullus have been enjoying them at this charming location since 1949.


Glass cases with shelves of glistening diamonds, coils, squares and rolls pull you to ogle in every direction, as sweet-toothed Turks familiar with the system push past you. Green crumbled pistachios and golden toasted phyllo dazzle, as the scent of nuts, rose water and sweetness tease. What do you choose? Where do you go? Suddenly, you hear a "hoşgeldiniz" from a man behind one of the cases, and he gruffly asks you what you'd like. Overwhelmed, you point to a few pretty pieces, and are soon handed a small white plate of delicious treasure. He tells you a number— the price— and you make your way over to the impatient cashier, pronouncing the same vowels and syllables you've just been told. Finding a seat is not easy, and you might have to share with other people. No matter, you've got a plateful of baklava.

So how was it? Dee-vine.