back in the 'bul

and it feels so good!

boston afternoon

Boston is one of America's oldest cities— by Istanbul standards it's practically newborn. Boston is a gem of a city; tree-lined streets with old brick houses, glass and steel skyscrapers next to stone churches, shady parks, the Charles river. When I was in art school in Providence, I used to take the bus up to Boston quite often to visit museums, walk around and just hang out. Last Tuesday I spent the afternoon hanging out in this pretty city with my good friend, Rebecca. We really didn't do too much— shared two pots of tea at Tealuxe on Newbury Street, chatted and walked around. The best kind of afternoon.

unexpected gems

Yesterday afternoon I stepped onto the tarmac of Istanbul's Atatürk International Airport. I deeply miss San Francisco, but I am thrilled to be back home. I have loads of unpacking and settling in to do, so the next few posts will be a kind of a continuation of my American Holiday.

On Wednesday, I explored a forest with Rebecca in New Hampshire. What I love about most about forests are all the hidden gems, easily missed when not paying attention. I am drawn to the colours and shapes of lichen and fungus, the near-perfect symmetry of a fern, the delicate structures of the little creatures that scurry around the fallen and rotting leaves.

lobsta!

You just cannot visit New England without having some seafood, and you cannot have seafood without getting it from a roadside shack, and when you are in the Lake Winnipesaukee area in New Hampshire, it's lobster rolls from Tamarack. The beauty of a Tamarack lobster roll is that the good people of the shack respect the lobster (or "lobsta" as it is pronounced in the region); you get a toasted bun crammed full of the juiciest and and most delicately flavoured meat without a ton of mayo and celery and whatnot. Other lobster rolls have a fraction of the meat and will taste no different than a tuna salad sandwich. Well let me just show you the glory:


And it tastes even better than it looks. Every time I find myself in New Hampshire, I run over to Tamarack as often as I can to get my lobsta fix satisfied for the year.

Tamarack is on Route 3, about a mile north of Weir's Beach in Laconia.

into the woods

I am now in New Hampshire for a week of lobster rolls, fireflies, trees, and staring at lakes before I head back to the hustle and bustle of Istanbul. It's so peaceful here; the silence is broken by birdsong, cricket chirps and the shushing of wind finding its way through leaves. This is the perfect place for drinking tea and reading books on porches, which I am off to do right now.

so long

It's funny how seven months can just fly by and feel like they never happened. Walking these foggy streets, Istanbul feels like a dream; just about everything is right were I left it. There are naturally, a few noticeable differences. The sales tax may have risen a percent, bus fares may now be two bucks, cafés and shops may have shut down with new ones in their place, and there may be far more "for rent" signs than when I left— but still, this is a city I can call mine.

I love sitting down with a friend and realising that time doesn't really mean much; you still laugh at each other's jokes, have that ability to confide, "get" those incomprehensible things about each other— even though much has happened in life, the friendship has remained a constant. The funny thing is, I feel that I have learned more about each friend since I have moved and come back. I didn't think it was possible, but I appreciate them even more now. I had a wonderful, bitter-sweet time in San Francisco, and even though I am looking forward to going home to Istanbul, I can't wait to return to SF.

friends behind glass / dreaming in trapeze

I had to return to the de Young one more time before I left and fortunately, yesterday was the first Tuesday of the month— a free admission day. It felt like I was saying goodbye to old friends; I have come to know the museum and its inhabitants well over the past four years. I recognise and am familiar with many brushstrokes, chisel marks and cracks. Here are some images of my most favourite pieces, cropped in and close-up. I would have included more African, Mayan and Oceanic art pieces, but they are all behind glass and the reflections were too distracting on camera.


I took a walk through the park to Circus Center, where I was learning static trapeze, for a visit with my teacher, to whom I owe a lot. I have always dreamt of becoming a trapeze artist, ever since I went to the circus as a little girl; the ladies that flew like birds above my head so enchanted me that I longed to join them. I hung upside-down on monkey bars in playgrounds, swinging from my knees to emulate them, and still to this day maintain an attraction to sequins and glitter.


I discovered Circus Center about a year after I moved to SF, but constantly came up with excuses not to join (as we do when we get older)— it's too expensive, I'm too busy, etc. Then one day I realised there was no point in not doing it, and signed up. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made— there's nothing like fulfilling a dream, even a tiny bit of it. My only regret is that I had to stop to move to Istanbul, and I have yet to find a place to continue in. I miss trapezing terribly, and dream about swinging and twirling around just about every other night.

This is me last year at Circus Center.

distinctly sf