The Blithe Traveler

The White Horses of Vienna

Brno did me in. I can not blog another word about it.  (Oh, alright, maybe I can find a few -->) Speilberk castle is lovely. It's beautifully restored, an invigorating hike up the hill, and there is a museum that has a lovely local art collection and historical displays with English information. If you want to see it, please come to Brno.

Vienna! I love Vienna. Not the same way heartsong way I love Prague, mind you, but Vienna is a vibrant, gorgeous, historical city. Austria is not exactly known for its love of foreigners, but for me, it's all relative. Coming to a place where everything is familiar (versus traveling in Asia, where things tend to be more exotic) is enough for me to feel like I am at home. And, as we rented a spacious apartment in the heart of the sightseeing area, and I brought half of my kitchen supplies with me, it was a lot like being at home.

Since I was playing tour guide for my dad, I did set up a more formal agenda than our crew is used to. Day 1, Spanish Riding School, Day 2 Hofburg Palace, including Butterfly Farm, Day 3 Schonbrunn Palace, including the Zoo. As you can see, I went heavy on the activities that would keep the museum-phobic (moi) entertained.

Additionally, my dad wanted to experience some of the real, live culture available everywhere in Vienna, so I bought him a ticket to hear a string quartet perform at Mozart's house. The kids and I opted out, instead indulging in our brand of culture, watching Shaun the Sheep DVDs on the Big! Screen! Television! in our apartment. Hey, everyone has their own definition of High Brow.

Day 1, The Spanish Riding School. This was a cruel move on my part, as Tom is dramatically allergic to horses, and our past experiences would suggest that spending two hours watching horses indoors would not be in his best interests. However, as a life long horse lover, and someone who has all her life wanted to see the White Horses of Vienna, Tom lost. I brought and applied Benadryl and told him to buck up; there would be something in it for him later (candy, if you are wondering what sorts of things I bribe my children with).

Here is the exterior of the entrance area to the Spanische Hofreitschule. The Winter Riding School is just inside to the left. The stabling area is down the road a piece and we visited that later in the day. The performance horses were on holiday while we were visiting, returning for performances in mid-February. We were there to see the Morning Training to Music, with a Tour of the Stabling Area to follow later in the afternoon.

The riding school was first named during the Austiran Empire in 1572 and is the oldest of its kind in the world.  A wooden riding arena was first commissioned in 1565, but it wasn't until 1729 that Emperor Charles VI commissioned the elaborate white riding hall used today. It is a rather astonishing thing to have in the center of a large metropolitian area, I think. 

The "Spanish Riding School," if you are not up to date on your equine history and were wondering what in the heck a Spanish school was doing in the heart of Austria, was originally named for the Spanish horses that formed one of the bases of the Lippizan breed, which is used exclusively at the school. Today the horses delivered to the Spanish Riding School are bred at the Piber Federal Stud located near the village of Piber.

We arrived about half an hour early, as I was beside myself. No kidding. I have seriously wanted to see these horses since I was ten years old and first read  Marguerite Henry's White Stallion of Lippiza.

We browsed in the gift shop a bit, and were able to peek out the windows and see the horses exercising in their "walker." My photos are, alas, not anything you would actually be discernible as a "horse walker," so I am not even going to bother, but there is a rather largish rectangular area that is set up to allow the horses to be walked for some period of time each day as a warm up to work, as well as a way to stretch their legs. Vienna is lovely, but has a sreious shortage of turn out for the hard working equine.

My photos from this day are quite tragic in that the rule is, you may not take photos inside the Winter Riding School. And so I did not. I took photos of the DVD playing in the waiting area. Weird and tragic, but exactly what a ten-year old horse crazy child would do, n'est–ce pas?

Others, perhaps less rule bound than myself, had no problem snapping away, so we shall swipe their photos from the internet. One good turn deserves another, and all that.

The training sessions were brilliant to watch. Four horses are worked at a time, for 25 minutes each. They were at various stages of learning, from old timer who was getting a refresher on piaffe to a four year old who took advantage of every opportunity to careen around the corners, bolt down the long side and generally cause the sort of ruckus one rather expects from a four year old.

The riders are require to dress formally. As we learned later in the tour of the facility, no one is allowed to enter the Winter Riding Hall without a jacket on. It did look a bit confining to me, but they've been doing it that way for 500 years, so one imagines they've worked out the kinks.

Of the 16 horses we saw work, there were maybe ten riders? I am not quite sure, and there was not a running commentary nor did they were distinguishing numbers on their backs. What was so interesting to me was the absolute precision of the riding by the majority of these riders. They were uniformly light, effective, quiet and utterly straight. Inspiring, I would say, to someone who has never managed more than two of the above at one time on the back of a horse.

Oddly, there was one, who did not seem to fit in. The fellow struck me as "older," as in, certainly not a young Eleve (trainee rider), but he did not ride with the same fluidity as the others. He was bent, twisted, insecure and so obviously out of place with the other riders, that I noticed him immediately in every group. And he did seem to ride in all four groups. Alas, a mystery that we shall never solve.  

While my father and I watched, transfixed, the wee children, unfortunately behaved exactly as four-year old horses are wont to behave. No, wait, that was unfair to Tom, who bucked it up rather bravely, and was let down by his immune system. Hope just got bored. Two hours of watching what all looked pretty much the same to her was past her ability to stay focused.

What a horse allergy looks like. He looked much better after the application of candy.

We left a little bit early. But not too much. And we went back in the afternoon for our scheduled tour of the barns. My father, in a bit of good thinking, though, hit the apothecary and brought back something to help Tom out.

It worked a charm, and the child was much happier. The stable is to the left below. The horses walk across the road each day to enter either the walker area or the Winter Riding Hall.

The stables themselves are gorgeous and quite grand in appearance. Although, if you are the sort who likes to see the turn out area, you will be disappointed. The performance horses do get time off for the summer, as everyone heads to the Summer  Stables in Heldenberg-Wetzdorf-Lower Austria for seven weeks. where they are kept in stalls with paddocks. The horses are not schooled during this period, but instead are hacked in the nearby forest.

The interior reminded me quite a bit of the U.S. Equestrian Team barns in Gladstone. Loyal reader Jen and I spent a good deal of our ill-spent youth romping around those barns causing trouble. No, wait, we were the ones keeping other people out of trouble? I can't even remember, as the sands of time have quite gotten away from me. 

But, this barn has similar brass fittings, dark woods stalls, and large spaces, with lots of fluffy bedding. Straw, of course, for the majority (now that brings back memories - ah, the mushroom men!) Although, the Lippizans are notoriously easy keepers, so the chubbier of the lot are kept on shavings, to discourage them from eating their beds.

The building is quite elaborate, as it was built by the rather showy Hapsburgs. Note the many chimneys. They are fake. Apparently a large number of chimneys gave a building an air of being expensive and important. The Hapsburgs were all over appearance, but did not think that the folks who actually lived in the apartments over the stalls required heat. Alas, these days, people do require heat, so the apartments are not occupied. At least, that is the story we were told during our tour.

And so, our day with the horses ended. Two things are clear. The first is that I must get back to see an actual performance. I will go alone, if I must, because I will certainly not take the children. The second is that I would like an Andalusian, please. I can move back to the US to get one, or perhaps Spain. But I would like my next horse to be a White Horse, please.

The Brno Clock

Prague has its Astronomical Clock, built in the early 1400s and we have our, well, I can't say it publicly. Just look at it, and you'll get the picture. It's a more recent addition to the city scape, erected in 2010.

 

Loyal reader Debbie will instantly recognize it. I sent her a Brno Clock magnet for the holidays. You can imagine her puzzlement when she opened that package.

And you, loyal reader whomever you might be, may have some questions of your own. Starting with, "A clock, you say?" which might lead to, "And how does one tell time with it?" and the obvious, "Wait, why do those people appear to have their hands stuck in it?" All good questions. In the spirit of lazy journalism, I am going to let someone else, who has already done a lovely job telling the story, tell you about it; although, one thing the author fails to mention, is that the clock is meant to look like a bullet. A gigantic, upright, erect, bullet. Got it? Say it with me, one time ... b u l l e t. Okay, read on:

"[The] design that is actually based on a legend from the time of the Thirty Years War. When Swedish troops laid siege to the city in 1645, the people of Brno discovered through their spies that the leader of the Swedish forces had declared that if Brno didn't fall by noon the next day, he would pull his forces out. The citizens of Brno responded by having the clocks chime one hour early - at 11 am. The trick was successful and the siege ended. [I would like to point out that when my 8-year old child heard this story he said, and I quote, "It must have been a cloudy day for a trick like that to work!" Does make one wonder, doesn't it? I am not sure verisimilitude and Brno 'history' necessarily mingle as often as one might expect.]

The clock commemorates this by chiming every day at 11 am and by randomly delivering a large marble to one of four openings toward the base of the clock [<--this is why the people have their hands sticking inside the clock!]. When the clock chimes, the person who has his hand in the right opening in the granite has a few seconds to catch a large marble before it disappears back inside. Whoever catches it may keep it.

Pretty!

The marbles pay tribute to a legend that the commander who led the siege, General Torstenson, could only be killed by a glass bullet fired at midnight. While some residents of Brno criticize the shape of the clock sculpture, they appreciate the marbles because they mark the courage of the local citizens who managed to stave off the Swedish siege.

Some people wait at the clock for 90 minutes or more to get a good place from which they might have a chance to catch one of the numbered, Bohemian-made glass balls, which have become a coveted collector's item." Source:  Brno Clock

So that's the why.

Now for the question of telling time. The clock itself is not terribly useful as a clock. There is a complicated mechanism that allows you to judge..., well, how 'bout I let you read for yourself. Might be easier:

Luckily, if you happen to be standing at this exact spot and you lift your eyes a bit to the left, you can read the church clock. Much quicker than working this out.

So, if you are lucky enough to be in our neck of the woods, I would be delighted to accompany you to our beloved clock. And if you wish to arrive 90 minutes or so before 11:00am and take you chances on one of the four slots, I'll bring my knitting. There are benches right nearby.

 

 

Cathedrals, Castles and Clocks, and ... Crocodiles?

In which, we visit Brno! Nice that my dad is here so that I can get out and see the town.

Which is not entirely fair; Brno is tiny. Tiny, tiny, tiny! So, I've seen it. I've walked around it on sunny days, rainy days, snowy days, at least a couple of times a week over the past few months. Being a small town, it is easy enough to get around and visit the main sites around town in a long afternoon, particularly if you are the sort who finds museums a snooze. Although, for the serious student of history, there are close to a thousand years of action to sort through, so you can also spend a lifetime being enthralled by it.

I would guess we'll ramble through the main sights here in about three "blog days," which depending on my mood may translate into three real life days, or three months. Only time will tell.

The two key highlights in Brno are Petrov Cathedral (also known as the Cathedral of Peter and Paul) and the Spielberk Castle. Both are ancient, gorgeous and ripe with history. Also, a ten minute walk from each other. Actually, all of the major sites in Brno are withing a ten minute walk of each other. This includes the Brno Dragon, an interesting historical tidbit, of which we will speak, albeit briefly, and the Brno Clock, a brand spanking new thing that has created a firestorm of controversy. Yes, a clock.

But let's start with the cathedral. This is a professional photo. The cathedral is on a high point of the city and is visible as you drive around the outskirts. It is striking, spectacular, gorgeous and ancient. It was built from the basilica of an older castle in the 13th century. Like I said, ancient.

Here's a view of it from the Speilberk castle, to give you a bit more perspective:

I confess that I love seeing the cathedral; it fills me with great happiness to see such a beautiful work of art high on the hill. I did visit it once, with Jeff, on a Sunday, so we did not go in as there were services going on at the time.

But my dad and I visited during the week, so we toured the inside and climbed to the top of the tower. The view is quite nice, as you can see all of Brno from the top.

*Pause* I just realized I am boring myself to death with this post. I am just not a Cathedrals, Castles and Clocks kind of girl.

Let's go to the Dragon, shall we, before I fall asleep on my keyboard and lose this post because my nose accidentally presses "delete."

A friend of mine mentioned to me a couple of months ago that she had taken her father-in-law to see the very famous "Brno Dragon." Since I had never heard of it, I asked for details. She explained that it was a stuffed dragon that hung in an alleyway. It was quite well known in Brno, and, well, there was more, but while she and I are are both native English speakers, I can sometimes be a bit dim. I couldn't seem to get my brain past "stuffed dragon." Anyway, here's what my mind's eye conjured up:

 

Once I knew of the existence of the Brno Dragon, I saw evidence of it everywhere in small dragon symbols on tourist literature, on the internet and in shops selling tourist tchatchkes (to whom, I ask myself, who comes here as a tourist??). But I had still not seen the thing in the flesh ... or the fun fur fabric, as it were. I confess to also be really confused as to why on earth a city would desire to hang up a stuffed dragon and use it as its symbol.

The day came when I was in town with some who is quite familiar with the area, and I begged him to please take us to the Dragon so I could see it with my own eyes and, maybe, work out what on earth the deal was with this thing.

And so he did. Do you see it? It's up there, hanging from the ceiling.

 

Here's a close up:

It's a crocodile. A taxidermized crocodile.

You might wonder what I have discovered about why this stuffed crocodile is hanging in the town center. The straight answer is "nobody knows." There are interesting tales and stories that range from the thing was living in the river terrorizing people and some clever fellow overcame it using trickery,  the townfolk hung it up in triumph, to it was brought here in the early 10th century as a gift. That seems unlikely as the old fellow seems in too good shape to be near a thousand years old.

But whatever his origins, he is one of the highlights of our wee town. Do stop by and we will bring you on a tour.

Signs of the Times

Jeff encountered this little beauty while in China. You have got to admire the chutzpa of the crew that put these up.

My dad and I saw this when castle hopping in Brno. There is nothing inherently wrong about it, one assumes. As castles tend to be high up on hills (otherwise they long ago ceased to be castles and would, instead, be a low lying shopping mall), it is safe to assume that Segway's are better left at home.

However, given that I have never seen a Segway in Brno, and have never seen this sign in any of the many places where I have seen Segways, I just wonder as to the appropriatness of it' placement. I mean, why Speilberk Castle?

Tomorrow: More on the sights of Brno

 

Blog Prague

We arrived home from Thailand, spent about twenty minutes at home, packed our bags and headed for Prague for the weekend. I exaggerate, of course. I had sufficient time for a couple of loads of laundry before we headed north.

The raison d'être for the trip was a personnel swap. My dad was flying in for two weeks, and Jeff was flying out for three. Jeff had cleverly arranged his trip so that he would have a day or so of overlap with my dad for some sightseeing in Prague, and then he headed off for his quarterly sojourn to China and the US, leaving us to navigate Europe on our own. Which, I have to say, we did with a minimum of fuss and bother.

Having lived and learned, I rented an apartment in Prague. Generally, these are much less expensive than hotels, have more space and come with a kitchen. The kitchen is critical to reducing the number of meals you have to eat in restaurants (we always had breakfast at home, and tried to eat lunch), which also reduces cost and stress on young children who just get tired of walking around in the cold and long for some of the comforts of home. Like, mom's i-pod or a DS.

So, have you been to Prague? It is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. 

I'll give you a taste of what Wiki has to say, before I get all teary-eyed and short out my notebook: "This magical city of bridges, cathedrals, gold-tipped towers and church domes, has been mirrored in the surface of the swan-filled Vltava River for more than ten centuries. Almost undamaged by WWII, Prague's compact medieval centre remains a wonderful mixture of cobbled lanes, walled courtyards, cathedrals and countless church spires all in the shadow of her majestic 9th century castle that looks eastward as the sun sets behind her. It is regarded by many as one of Europe's most charming and beautiful cities (<--hello! not just by yours truly!), Prague has become one of the most popular travel destinations in Central Europe.

Indeed. And if you come visit me, we shall explore Prague. My dad loved it, and really wants to go back. You will have no trouble persuading me to go, although one presumes it is a bit more crowded during peak tourist season. I've been in April and January, and it is busy in both "off-season" times, so be prepared for crowds in the summer! And here are the sights you would see, if "you" were to visit "me." Loyal readers, Debbie, Jen, Jen, Jennie, Anne, Ann, Julie and now Gwynna (I think the covers it, right?), please take note.

Old Town (Staré město), within which, you would see the Týn Church. Jeff took this photo from the tower above the astronomical clock. Amazingly cool gothic sort of thing to have towering over the town square, don't you think?

The Astronomical Clock: truth in advertising, I took this photo. From the internet. Ha! Right. Back to the tour.

The Astronomical Clock was built in 1410 and is a pretty high tech device for its day and age. And since the whole thing is still way above my head, I would consider a pretty high tech device for this day and age. The main dial tells the time, but, wait, there's more! It also shows the placement of the Sun and Moon, phase of the moon, time of sunrise and sunset, length of astronomical night, time in old Bohemian hours, in unequal hours and other data.

There's is actually still more, but I should leave something for the imagination. 

From here, it's a short walk through the Old Town to the Charles Bridge (Jeff's photo). Its construction started in 1357 under the auspices of King Charles IV and finished in the beginning of the 15th century. The bridge crosses the river Vltava and is for pedestrians only. The bridge bustles all day with vendors of all sorts of hand-made goods, including paintings, jewerly and assorted knicks and knacks. It is a fun place to cross and browse, although it is crowded even in January... one can only imagine what it is like in July. 

The Prague Castle (stolen photo!) is the former seat of the King and is now the seat of the Czech president. This is said to be the largest castle in the world, and it is Prague's number one tourist attraction. It was empty when we were there, but it was also closing time in January, which may have had something to do with the lack of actual people. The views from up high over the city are spectacular, and seeing it at sunset was worth missing actually going inside and seeing all of the boring museum stuff (any loyal readers who may desire to visit, if you are into the boring museum stuff, that's fine! I always bring my knitting).

So, those are the highlights. Jeff and I also took the children to the zoo and the supermarket. But we can leave those photos for our personal family album.

We dropped Jeff off at the airport, drove back to Brno, and my dad and I spent a few days exploring Brno before we headed off to Vienna.

Tomorrow: Signs of the Times, a wee break in the travel action as I try to round up my dad's Brno photos and steal those for my own personal use.

Prague: Heartsongs

Prague makes my heart sing. I know, you've heard me say that before, particularly if you are a friend on Facebook. Like Venice, there is something about this place that just makes me happy. Not a lot of words today, just some Heartsong photos.

Astronomical clock, left foreground.

Looking back west from the Charles Bridge.

The Castle, at night.

Towers, lit up.

Happy, happy goof ball.

Tomorrow: a little more information about Prague

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PS: A little truth in advertising, I rarely post photos I have actually taken (a rare exception would be the out of focus photo of Tom from yesterday). Jeff takes most of them, and all of the above.

TinTin in Istanbul

What's wrong with this picture? Other than that it is out of focus.

TinTin did not go to Istanbul.

At least, not in any of the original Hergé cartoons. TinTin and the Golden Fleece, was a live-action TinTin film that took place in Greece in Turkey. Actors were made-up to look like the characters and the movie featured an original storyline not based on any of the books. So, it's not in our TinTin Repetoire.

And we are purists. *sniff*

 Thomson: "Just our luck! The one time we manage to catch the culprits they turn out to be innocent! It's really too bad of them!"
Thompson: "You'd think they'd done it on purpose!"   The Castafiore Emerald (1963)

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Photo location for future reference: Chiang Mai, Thailand

Turkish Delight: You Do Know What It Is, Don't You?

Actually, given the high-brow demographic of the smallish crowd who read this, I expect you do.

I did not, and so when I read "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" to the wee children a year or so ago, we had to look it up. I had, of course, read the book when I was a wee child, 'lo those many centuries ago, and my mind's eye envisioned Turkish Delight as one of the more magical confections on the planet. When Edmund slurps down fistfuls of the stuff, my little salivary glands imagined creamy, fresh, light, airy, something like cloud-like whipped vanilla fudge, the sort of thing that would melt on your tongue and encourage you to eat until your tum ached. 

With the internet now at our fingers, when the wee children asked what on earth Turkish Delight was, I was able to quickly provide the answer. But imagine my shock and horror when I googled "Turkish Delight recipe" and the first ingredient turned out to be gelatin! Gah! While Edmund has never been my favorite character, he fell quite a few notches after that unveil. He gave up his family for some goopy gelatin dessert??

Not quite. To be fair, proper Turkish Delight is not made from gelatin. But it is a jelly like substance. Here's a photo:

Would you give up your siblings for this?? Wait, don't answer that.

Turkish delight can be made from all sorts of things, but flour, corn starch, and sugar tend to lead the ingredient lists. I did think about trying to make some for the children, reasoning that it would be a nice build from reading the books, but as luck would have it, miracle of miracles, last spring when we were in New Zealand, we found some! Real life Turkish Delight! And since we were in New Zealand, the label was in English, and we could read it!!  We were triply lucky enough to find it in what are fairly traditional flavors: Rosewater and Lemon.

"Rosewater?" you query. 

Indeed. And it tastes about as you would imagine: like a rose flavored cube of gelatin. I'm not thinking Kraft is going to be launching Rosewater Jell-o this year, but I have been wrong on this sort of thing before. Actually, it would make kind of a nice Narnia: The Movie tie-in, wouldn't it?

But I digress. The wee children and I agreed what while Turkish Delight was a nice enough literary device, as a candy, it was lacking in some of the key qualities that make us adore candy. Number one being "tastes good."

We were happily surprised to see Turkish Delight prominently featured in candy shops in Moscow this summer as we were passing through. That would be where happily equals, "reminded us of the Narnia books and New Zealand," but not "happily" enough that we actually bought any for consumption.

Which brings us back to Istanbul! Did you know that Turkish Delight is found all over Turkey? Turkey, Turkish ... did you get that??

 

 What you see above is the "traditional" Rosewater flavor, and just above that, what is apparently a far superior product that is made almost solely of chopped dates, pistachios and hazelnuts or walnuts.

The stuff was pretty pricey (hello! it's for tourists!). If you give me a minute, I can probably work out how much it was. Let's see, it was about 10 Turkish Lira (and not that you care, but since we were fresh off the plane from Thailand, that translates to a little more than 200 Thai baht), which is equal to about 5 Euro (and I am thinking in Euro right now because I actually happen to be sitting in Vienna as I type this and the currency there is of course, the Euro), (and not that you care, but since we were about to head back to Brno, that translates to a little more than 120 Czech korun), which translates to about six and a half US dollars. For what looks like half a kilo. Or about a pound. Of flower flavored gelatin candy.

I have to say, my math skills have improved considerably in recent months, although the children still kill me when they ask, "If it's 315 korun, how many RMB is that?" Yes, they think in RMB.

Anyway, Hope took what I consider to be the appropriate approach to this stuff: if is free, it is for me.

She has decided she likes the Rosewater variety. But then, compared to Durian candy, what's not to like?

Turkish Delight

I fell in love with Istanbul. I mean, I was in the city less than 24 hours and I told Jeff I was ready to move to Turkey. I am beginning to feel like the traveling equivalent of the Yarn Harlot. "Ohhh, pretty city! Can I stay here forever?!"

We landed not too late in the evening, but maybe twelve days after we left Thailand? I confess that I have no idea how many hours the flight from Bangkok to Istanbul is. I mean, who cares? You get on the plane at some appointed time (don't be late!) and you get off the plane when it lands (at some local time that is co-ordinated with someone picking you up or a rental car agency). So what difference does it actually make how long you are sitting on the plane? The children sure don't care. Turkish Air is one of those incredibly fine airlines that has Personal Video Screens. Plug them in and the wee ones cry when the plane lands.

Jeff had secured for us a rare find: cheap luxury digs. Since it was the first week in January at this point, we were in what is probably the lowest of the low season for travelers around the world. We arrived at our gorgeous hotel, the children quietly ooohh and aaaahing, and I fell into the softest bed I have ever slept in and resigned myself to sleep (although "resigned" would suggest that my conscious self had anything to do with it, when I assure you, I actually remember nothing past the moment of murmuring, "Oooo, soooffft ... zzzzzzz."). Tom did the same and Jeff took Hope out to dinner. Clearly different members of our family have different priorities.

I may or may not have peered out the window to see the view that evening. The room was overlooking the Bosphorus river, which divides Istanbul. What you see on the other side is Asia, whereas the place from which the photo was taken is Europe. Istanbul is the only city in the world that is located on two continents, and our superfine digs gave us a view of both.

We awoke early the next day (early, Istanbul time, late Thai time, of course) and feasted on the most incredible breakfast spread I have ever seen. When I use this sort of hyperbole, Jeff inevitably rolls his eyes and reminds me that I have lived a sheltered life. And while this is probably true, the spread was grand. There were fresh fruits, gently flavored with delicate spices, hot food, breads, breads and more breads! Wonderful cheeses, meats and, gah! It brings tears to my eyes to remember it. There was even fresh honey on the comb waiting for you, if you were the sort who likes a bit of honey in your tea or porridge.

It is possible (it occurs to me as I type this), that perhaps I did not so much fall in love with Istanbul as I fell in love with our hotel. But, no matter! My memory says "Istanbul!" and so we shall return and enjoy its fruits and spices and cheeses at some later point!

Since we really had but the morning to explore, we struck off for the Blue Mosque, one of the more famous sites in Istanbul. Built between 1609 and 1616, it is known as the Blue Mosque for the blue tiles that adorn its interior.

Here is a photo of the wee children outside. Beautiful day, don't you think? We were met here by a gentleman who offered to give us a tour of the mosque in exchange for allowing ourselves to be taken to a local carpet merchant to check out their merchandise.

As savvy travellers, Jeff and I were happy to agree. We told the gentleman up front that we would not be buying a carpet, and traded 15 minutes of our time for tour of the mosque.

Wiki will tell you that the painting of the tiles is "poor quality." Be that as it may, I thought they were simply beautiful. I probably would have been all "meh," if we were talking about the Green or Yellow Mosque, but I confess to having a life long fascination with the color blue, so this struck my eye as being lovely, soothing and a perfect place for prayer.

The "lines" you see coming down from the ceiling are electric lights. If you look above, you can see the large glass light bulbs and the heavier wiring that probably represents the actual electric wires. One imagines that the thinner wires from the ceiling down are supports.

Post mosque, we trotted off to the carpet store, where we were treated to a carpet show. We had recently been vict... er, the lucky recipients of the same sort of show in Morocco (and one day, when I catch up, I may go back and chronicle our stay in Morocco...the difference between Istanbul and Morocco is that we agreed to it in Istanbul. Morocco was more of a blindside.). In fact, I think it was the exact same carpet demonstration. The flourishing carpets are quite a sight to behold, but as neither Jeff nor I find them particularly compelling, we have not been tempted to purchase anything of the sort. Although, if I were were, rumor has it, Uzbekistan might be a better place to shop.

With that, and a few minutes browsing in the market, we headed for the airport.

Tomorrow: Turkish Delight: You Do Know What It Is, Don't You?

Our Old Friend, The Durian

Wait! I forgot something! Leaving Thailand, we encountered our old friend, the Durian at the airport. For those of you, like Loyal Reader Debbie, who have been with us since the Beginning, have recoiled in fear. Not the Durian! Yea gods, woman, take pity!

For those who may be newer readers, I will give you some history:

The Durian, Because You May Not Know

It Took A Durian

I will now clarify for you how our friends at Turkish Airline perceive the Durian. This is what they say about bringing firearms on the airplane (I'll translate, as my Sneak-o-skope photo skills are not top notch): "Attention: passengers who would like to bring firearms onto the aircraft, please contact airline staffs at check in counter."

Firearms, right? Like you are really meant to bring that sort of thing onto an airplane. Imagine that you walk up to the Turkish Air counter, you announce that you would like to bring your firearm onto the airplane and I cannot help but imagine that six burly men leap out from behind the conveyor belt and none-too-gently escort you to the nearest prison from which you never emerge. Right?

Same deal with the Durian.

 Only, maybe I think for the durian, it might take ten burly men.

PS: Hope holds no grudges regarding her experiences with durian candy. We were (a) shocked (b) delighted (c) appalled to find this display in the airport. Other than mother's torturing their children, who buys this stuff??