Inspiration for my Future Food Museum

New place in the artist district: 10 - check out my ceilings and walls. It's an old, old building that my host and his friend have restored and decorated with antiques from the neighborhood.

Neighborhood: 10 - another local neighborhood, lots of cafés and shops, just behind the Euro hotel (which is about three times more expensive).

Location: 10 - near to "everything" on this side... maybe a five-minute walk. And this side is SO DIFFERENT than the "Old City." It's relaxed and hipster and there are no carpet sales going on anywhere.

Host: 10 - Marcel is cool. He is a musician from Germany and has been here for nine years. He plays music, works in a café, and rents half of his apartment out. It's a great set-up, because this apartment was used for parents of the former occupants and it is completely separate. The two apartments share a kitchen and living area, but it is private. I like.

Spent my day walking through the winding, narrow streets looking into antique shops and art galleries, working my way to The Museum of Innocence. Orhan Pamuk is Turkey's literary hero - I am reading his memoir, Istanbul, this week - and this is his museum. One of the guys in my cooking class said "Go and see it. It's a concept that is completely original."

He's right. The Museum of Innocence is the title of one of his novels, and he created the museum as he wrote the novel - it is meant to capture the memories and meanings associated with objects from daily life. The house of the museum has five floors, three of which are packed with "installations" - boxes filled with objects (very artistically portrayed) that represent this forbidden love story. Flash was not allowed, but this will give you the idea - each box began with Orhan reading a paragraph from the book, then commentary about the objects (really, on another level, it is Orhan's love story about Istanbul...):

So the concept is that our memories are like museums. I think my museum is filled with food. Only a few of his boxes represented food, and they were the best boxes. My museum is going to be awesome. Can't wait to read the book.

When I left, I had to walk up a very steep hill (the museum was extremely hard to find and was in an obscure neighborhood). About half way up, there was this great juice place advertising the special of the day: pineapple, watermelon and ginger with jazz playing and the dark-featured, pony-tailed juicer dancing and snapping his fingers behind the counter. Had to order the special, if only to stop and rest. So hot again today.

Drinking the juice special next to me was a woman who looked pretty interesting, so I struck up a conversation with her. From Japan, she was visiting a family in Istanbul. "One of my families," she said, from when she studied and volunteered through Istanbul University. She saw my brochure and said, "Oh, I am heading there now. I'm reading Istanbul."

So we connected on that, then the owner spoke up.

"You're from Japan? I just got a Akita Ina." Which is Japan's national dog, which made the woman light up.

When the owner said he was from Syria, she lit up. "I studied in Damascus!" she said.

And then he lit up again.

"It must be hard for you, now, with your country's situation," she said. She was the coolest person, I could tell.

"Well," he said, "I have been here for three years, and I only look ahead. I don't look back. I worked hard to open this shop, and this is where I am supposed to be." And when he said it, it seemed to really be so. He was the coolest person, too, I could tell.

That moment is why I love travel so much. Connections, literature, places, language... dogs.

I told him I would come back for juice each day I am in this neighborhood. If the woman wasn't headed to Malta to visit another of her "families," I would have suggested hanging out that night. I could tell she had a million stories, and her English was perfect. Anyway...

This is the famous street of modern Istanbul - Istiklal Street. The Syrian Juicer calls it the "Street of Madness":

Tons of people walk it at all hours. Every chain imaginable is on this street, including Fatburger. At the end of this street to the north is a place that I saw on Anthony Bordain, No Reservations, Istanbul: the "wet burger." Which is the anti- Fatburger, the ultimate sloppy slider, the Kizilkaylar. Kind of a retro Herfy's burger, but more soggy and delicious:

And up close:

 

Why is it so exciting to see something that you've seen on Anthony Bordain, anyway? But it is. So exciting.

And, like I said, I was going extra deep with my street food class and felt I needed to study the mussels at least one more time. Here is a better look at them:

And the deep fried mussels on a stick with garlic sauce:

I ended the day by walking all the way down Istiklal street, then down, down, down some winding, narrow cobblestone streets to see the Galata Tower at night. What a spectacular sight; now I know why all the men invite all the women here. It's stunning.

 

Constructed in 1348, it was the city's tallest structure for centuries.

You know, my one night in a hotel was good and I was very grateful to be out of that Sisli Situation, but it just reinforces to me that my current artist apartment - and my former wooden house - make me so much happier. And interesting. And strange.

Good night, everybody...