bitoque

It was in the seaside town of Nazaré that I enjoyed my first bitoque, a hammered steak (pork, in this case) topped with a fried egg and served with rice and chips. Oh yes, and an insignificant little salad. I normally opt for the sumptuous bifana when stopping for a quick bite, but this day, this was the day of the bitoque.



All that creamy yolk running down the steak, coating the rice...
So simple, and so very good!

orange, grey, and green

While I hide away from winter under my yak wool blankets— and before I fly off to a place so dear to my heart— I'm going to show you a little bit of what December looked like between Lisbon and Porto.



Be prepared for a pork bonanza.

snow and sea

Yesterday, on the limits of Istanbul.

and when you're in edirne...

You get some fried liver. Yes! Even if you loathe liver, Edirne's fried liver will make a liver lover out of you. It happened to me, you know. My personal favourite place to crunch down on the sweet, crispy slivers of goodness is Aydın ciğer salonu— when a place has a line that stretches down the street, you know there's something special about it.

By the way, in all the years I have been here, I don't believe I have ever told you just how good lentil soup is in Turkey. It's positively magical on a chilly day, and if I find a decent recipe, I'll be sure to share it with you!

synagogue

Edirne's beautiful Büyük Synagogue has been under restoration since 2010, after it fell to ruin when much of the city's Jewish community emigrated. Built in 1907, the synagogue was brought into the headlines a few months ago by inflammatory and hateful remarks made by the district's governor, insisting that the synagogue would only open as a museum, in response to Israel's actions involving the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem.



Needless to say, his comments resulted in public outcry, and the synagogue will open its doors for worship sometime in the near future. It's a gorgeous building— I can't imagine how lovely it must be inside! I read somewhere that it will be the second largest synagogue in Europe, after the Dohány Street Synagogue in Budapest, which I was lucky to visit some time ago.

remember

"Killed... by bomb... terör... he loved Atatürk." This was the explanation given to me by a gentleman who was handing out small, black-and-white photocopied portraits of the man people had gathered to march for. "We must remember."

A brass band played to a solemn drumbeat, the musicians decked out in brilliant red, the colour of the carnations clutched tightly in the hands of the marchers, the colour of the Turkish flag. Leading the procession was a tiny woman in a leopard print coat, who proudly pulled up her spine when she spied my camera. She gave me a nod and a warm smile, and I snapped away.



I walked along with the group until the statue of Atatürk, where the procession came to a halt. The band played on, and a speech was made. A woman asked me to take a photo of her with her phone. She wanted the statue behind her, and struck a dignified pose.

the pandas of edirne

the barber

Spying on a white-haired barber from the upstairs window of a coffee shop across the street.
A damp, grey afternoon in Edirne.

playing with pencil

Lately I've gone back to basics with my sketching, working only in pencil. My goal is to focus on value, to practice with light and shadow. I feel that my drawings and paintings need a lot more contrast.



Now this surprised looking fellow above is not a study in value, but a quick note of the fresco of St. Theodore from the Chapel of St. Basil in Göreme. I wasn't allowed to take a photograph of his wonderful expression, so I stood among the circulating horde of tourists and did my best to capture it.



One of the subjects I tend to run away from drawing or painting is moving water. Here I've tried to get a sense of the crashing waves of the Atlantic, somewhere on the coast of Portugal. It's not that great, but I like the waves in the lower right side. I'm forever telling my students to face their challenges and work through them, and it's time I took my own advice.

Must keep practicing!

more sketches of anatolia

From the giant heads of Mount Nemrut, to the Mesopotamian plains of Mardin.

becoming strangers

It was as though the wind had lost its patience with us, and from its dusty mouth a hot moan crept through the streets, turning the sky from white to a sickly orange.



I bought a string of chilies so sharp and fragrant— their red was on fire in the strange light that washed Istiklal yellow, and in that yellow, I suddenly noticed how the kemençe player's hair had turned from brown to white.



I realised I had become strangers with the city I once loved.