Monday, May 30, 2011

Istanbul, Cappadoccia, Bozcaada

Gasp. Yes, the blog is still breathing. Barely. I’m sure you thought for the past year, it was coughing and wheezing to its slow death (at the rate I was posting…), but alas, I’ve decided to bring it back for another go round.

Since my last post from almost exactly half a year ago, I’ve returned to Austin (again), but I promise I have no plans to wait another six months and move back to Barcelona (for the third time in five years). I’ve started exploring other outlets besides food and will hopefully have another website, not just a blog, exhibiting my new endeavor.

So I need to share all the food porn from my latest big trip, which actually happened back in August. But admittedly, it is probably one of the grandest trips I’ve been on in the since that it was to a place the most foreign to me where I knew nothing of the language, little of the people, and still today remain awed about the culture there. I’m sure I’ve built you up for some unknown, desert island in the middle of the Pacific, but I’m sure for most of you it will not end up being that exotic.

Turkey. I went to Turkey. It was a lot of firsts for me. My first trip to a Muslim country. My first trip to Asia (I know, it’s not exactly China or Japan or the Asia we traditionally think of, but all but a tiny speck of the country falls into that continent). My first (but not last) Turkish breakfast. My first dried mulberry. My first time to the Aegean Sea. My first time to pay for a public bathroom. My first Ramazan (that’s Ramadan in Turkish). My first turnip juice.

These are just a few to name. If I had to describe the trip, a flood of words comes to my mind, many of them contradictory because the cities we visited provided such a sampling of different Turkeys.

Humid. Untouched. Eggplant. Male-centric. Spanning. Grand. Simple. Hot. Surprising. Large. Greek. Proud. Flinstones. Classic. Wooden. Deserted. Windy. San Francisco. Pistachio.

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