Weekend...

Let's see...

Friday:  The lecture was great.  Apparently at these "English speaking Universities" class is only actually in English if there are foreigners.  I've heard stories about classes held in Turkish up to the second that the foreigner walks in late to lots of groaning among the Turkish students.  Well, there were three of us foreigners on Friday, so it was in English.  (I felt bad about this, especially when he joked that he could also do the lecture in French or Armenian if anyone wanted.)  I could go on for a while about Armenian liturgical chant, but instead I'll say that after the lecture, Mike, Gabe (Ethnomusicology student from the University of Washington), and I played some music and then went to a Türkü bar with some other people in our program.

A Türkü bar is one of those places with a live band that plays Turkish folk songs, often known from old TV shows and movies.  Here we are.  From left to right: Some random kid I don't know but is cool because he was wearing a Ghostbusters shirt earlier, Servet, Gabe, Mike, a Turkish girl Lucas met while utterly lost on the subway, and Lucas in his "No, I swear this shirt makes me look Turkish" shirt.

Other than TV and movies, most Turks know these songs from weddings.  It would be kinda like if I went to a bar in the US and danced the electric slide all night.  Lucas's friend couldn't comprehend why in God's name we wanted to go to this place and instead wanted to talk to me about opera.  The Magic Flute is her favorite.  

Anyway, the problem with these places is that people eventually start dancing.  Servet pulled a few of us out from our little corner and had us join the line.  Now, all you have to do is hold hands with people and follow a very small number of steps that are repeated over and over.  This is easier said than done, though, as the people you're watching are usually facing you, and you think you've got it until you turn the corner and realize you're doing the whole thing backwards.  Before utter disaster ensues, you leave the line and take pictures:

I'm not going to say exactly how long we were there, but I will show you this picture of what I saw from my balcony when we got home:

Needless to say, Saturday was more like a half-day.  I did manage to see some of the modern art museum, but my guidebook lied and told me I had until 8, when it actually closed at 6.  I'll have to go back.  Got some good Baklava from Güllüoğlu, though.  (Hey, kids who are in New York.  Check this out.)  

Today I got up early and found all the black people.  They're all Episcopalian.  Seriously, though, the most diverse group of people I've seen since being here were at an Episcopalian service at an old Coptic church.  The people ranged from old British ladies to young South Asian families. At the end of the service, the kids raced each other to see who could collect all our little booklets the fastest.  Apparently that church also does Evensong every day, but there was no choir this morning.  It was a nice service, and it cured my minor bout of homesickness, even though I always forget how different Episcopalian services are from what I'm used to.  

The courtyard had some animals.  Your standard cat, for instance:

Also, a turtle:

Afterwards, I headed towards Kurabiye Sokağı (Cookie Street).  I got to Parsifal, a vegetarian cafe, but the lady sitting in front looked at me like I was crazy for wanting to eat lunch at 12:30.  I was to come back in an hour.  I should have guessed.  The street was pretty empty:

Waiting, I finally took a picture of Istiklal Caddesi.  I'm here a lot, but it's usually much more crowded, making it hard to stop and take pictures.

And the long awaited Space Mosque.  This is Gabe's term, and I think it's perfect.  This is a common look for buildings only recently converted into mosques:

Anyway, back on Cookie Street, lunch was delicious.  I had a mushroom pasta thingie.  It must have looked so good that everyone else sitting around me (everyone else being four people) all pointed at my dish and asked for the same thing.  I felt cool.  I also had plum juice.  And translated for a French couple (no, not from French, unfortunately).  That was pretty sweet.  

After hanging out for a while, I met with Lisy's old boss, Ozge, and her boyfriend who was visiting from New York.  As promised, Ozge was awesome.  The three of us sat and talked for quite a while and then climbed to the top of Galata Tower (OK, fine, we took the elevator).  Look at these views!

The end.