Herbivorous adventures

One notable feature of Istanbul are the men (invariably men) who stand in front of every stall, shop, and restaurant and try to convince passers-by that they should enter. They are always fairly energetic about it: sometimes bordering on the aggressive. That made the following exchange that much funnier:

Man outside kebab restaurant encourages us to come in, stressing how fine an eating experience we would have.

My father: “Do you have anything without meat? We’re vegetarians.” [Actually, it’s just me, but it’s kind of him to help.]

Kebab man, incredulously: “Why?,” said as though he has never heard a more mad idea.

Us: generally shrugging shoulders, rather than trying to explain.

Him: “Then, you must go to another restaurant.”

Now, they did have vegetarian items on the menu and, in my experience, not even a restaurant called the Steak and Burgers BBQ will actually tell you not to eat there, if you are vegetarian. My vegetarian friends have frequently been reassured over the phone, to later be presented with only salad and french fry options (the latter being only dubiously unrelated to the killing of animals). It makes for an odd contrast with the people who will follow you for a block, trying to sell you a hat in which you never expressed the slightest interest.

On another note, somebody on the tour that my father and I took today who learned, at lunch, that I was a vegetarian later asked to have his picture taken with me, on account of the fact. Odd experiences, in both cases.

Initial bearings established

Blue Mosque, Istanbul

The original version of this post was extinguished by a brief power failure that occurred as I was writing it.

I have spent the morning of my first day exploring the old city. It is quite impossible to miss the first two calls to prayer of the day: both happen before the hotel breakfast begins at 8:00am. I was the first one to partake in it (an aberration from my normal travel pattern) and to appreciate the elevated view of the Bosphorus, with deep orange light from the morning sun illuminating large container ships and tankers heading north to the Black Sea.

The Sultanahmet becomes comprehensible quite quickly, as you develop a general sense of orientation based on the location of the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the city walls, and the park full of soldiers that wraps around down towards the ferry landings at the entrance to the Golden Horn (Istanbul’s strategic natural harbour).

Between the ferry landings and the open space encompassing the old city’s two most famous monuments, there is a tangle of small commercial streets of impossible complexity. Appreciate the bustle, the appeals of touts, and the inexpensive street food, while maintaining as consistent a bearing as possible. Otherwise, you will probably start looping without entirely realizing it. Once you hit a big street with tram lines on it, follow it northwards (towards the strait) until you find yourself between the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque. Knowing your bearings, with reference to this place (where any local or shopkeeper can direct you) seems the most intelligent approach to developing a working knowledge of Old Istanbul.

One nice thing about the city are the scores of wild cats, reminiscent of Rome but healthier looking. I have probably already seen one hundred today, and they are all quite elegant and intelligent looking. They are all also quite young: either a sign that they do not generally endure long, or perhaps that the youngest ones are the most visible. Probably ten percent of those I have seen are unmistakably kittens: most of them a mottle of ginger, brown, and white. While dogs seem to prefer the large, open spaces the cats are undeniably in charge of the alleyways.

I’ve only ducked into this cafe to provide better directions to the hotel to my father and cousin Ivanka, who will be joining us tomorrow. As such, I am off to find a nice spot to have a coffee and read, while I await my father’s arrival. Tomorrow, I suspect, will be given over to seeing the most interesting things that we would not feel obliged to re-visit with Ivanka on Wednesday.

From Sabiha Goklen airport to Old Istanbul (Sultanahmet)

The following is pragmatic information for the benefit of future travellers, rather than any sort of lyrical fırst impressıon of this fascinating city. Time constraints, hunger, and the strangeness of Turkish keyboards all interfere with my desire to relate such initial impressions.

My travel book, the 2003 Rough Guide to Turkey, speaks of only one airport in the cıty: Ataturk on the European side of the Bosphorus. EasyJet flies to a different airport: Sabiha Goklen, on the Asian sıde.

To get from the latter airport to Sultanahmet is not actually too difficult, but the means are non-obvıous:

Right outside the termınal, wait for a bus called Is Gunleri (İ am omitting all accents, on account of keyboard unfamiliarıty). The bus will cost more than two but less than three Lira, and you will not be given a ticket or receipt.

Take that bus all the way to Kadhkoy. This will take about 3/4 of an hour, based on modest traffic. At the end, you wıll reach a kınd of bus termınus beside many boat landıngs.

North of where the bus stops, look for a boat that costs 1.3 Lira and that advertises Karakoy as the destination. Take it across the straight, with its gorgeous but hazy views of the old city. Shortly after passing under a low bridge, get off at the first landing.

You are now near the Sirkeci Train Station, in the northern part of Sultanahmet. If you are like me, you will buy a pretzel – for strength – and then spent three whole hours searching for your hostel while admiring the complexity of the settıng, appreciating the beauty of the mosques, and exchanging wary glances with battle-scarred feral dogs.

Now, I really need to go get some dinner.

PS. As of today, Canadians needing an entry visa are being charged US$60. You need to have it in cash, and exact change, before you arrive in Turkey. UK citizens are being charged a more modest 10 Pounds.

PPS. You will never realize how often you use the letter ‘i’ until you try a Turkish keyboard.

Luton-bound in seven hours

Garden behind The Perch, near the Port Meadow

The Turkey plan has become a phased one: I will be leaving early this morning, from Luton Airport, and arriving tomorrow afternoon in Istanbul. I am to establish a position in the hotel and conduct some initial reconnaissance. My father will join me in Turkey the next day, and the day after that my cousin Ivanka will be arriving. I think of myself as the beachhead force: probably not up for sustained deployment, without the development of a logistical trail, but capable of flexibility and willing to take opportunities that arise.

This will be my first ever visit to the Middle East, and likewise to Asia. Everybody stresses how Istanbul is a contrasting place: between old and new, between faiths and regions. It should be fascinating to explore. Those who have never seen an aerial view of Istanbul’s unique geography should do so, so as to better understand.

Loading up my 60L hiking pack for this kind of an expedition reminds me of the wonderful time I spent in Italy with Meghan Mathieson in 2004. While the social dynamics will obviously be different here, it should be enjoyable to engage in that sort of peripatetic tourism. My digital photos should be online by the 17th, at the latest, with photos shot on film (T-Max 400) to follow in a couple of weeks.

PS. Pre-trip preparation has also included the ceremonial “removing of the Amnesty International ‘Protect the Human’ pin from my backpack.” It’s probably not the wisest emblem to display in a country that still charges people criminally for reading poetry in public. That’s doubly true, as I need to get a visa at the airport on my way in.

Party in London with other Canadians

I won’t be able to attend tonight’s party at the High Commissioner’s official residence in London, but other Canadian grad students with the time and inclination should. High Commissioner is a title invented by Canadians to stress how our relationship with Queen and Empire could not be captured through a mere exchange of ambassadors. Partly as a result of the former prominence of that relationship, the High Commissioner has a very nice house and throws fine (if short) parties:

Event details:

Friday, December 1 from 18:30 to 20:30
James R. Wright, High Commissioner for Canada’s residence – 3 Grosvenor Square, London W1 (Bond Street Underground).
Google Map

Last year, just showing up was enough to get in, but you may want to contact Ian Napier (ian.napier@international.gc.ca) to double check, if you are planning to come from far off.

Six days to Turkey

Back Quad, Wadham College

I am now thoroughly excited about the upcoming trip to Istanbul. Before starting My Name is Red, my general notions about the Mediterranean had me expecting it to be fairly warm, if not as much so as Malta was in March. Now, I am expecting the real possibility of snowfall. Judging by my weather widget, the temperatures there are not incomparable to those in Oxford.

One more seminar and two reasonably short papers to write, largely on the basis of reading that has already been done: it will be quite a relief to have finished all elements of the Developing World seminar, with the exception of the three hour exam at the end of Trinity.

It would be easier to think of things to say if I weren’t so utterly exhausted. Hopefully, a bit of sleep before the OUSSG meeting will make my brain feel less as though there is a sea urchin knocking back and forth between my ears.

PS. Many thanks to Claire, who kindly took me for lunch at St. Cross today. For the uninitiated, it is widely believed to be the best lunch at any college. Quite unexpectedly, eating there also led to my seeing Dennis Danielson – the instructor for my Honours Milton course back at UBC. Of all the instructors I had at UBC, he seems the sort who could most easily cross over into Oxford style academia.

On the coming month

Wadham College crest, in dark brush strokes

In two weeks’ time, Michaelmas Term will have come to an end, I will be 66% through the academic portion of my Oxford experience, I will have turned 23, and I will be on my way to Turkey with my father. The last of those is definitely the most exciting, though I still have not done any real background research. With lots of reading to be done for every Thursday, a thesis meeting with Dr. Hurrell coming up on Friday, and other tasks looming in all corners of the town, it can be difficult to devote energy to anything else.

That may partially explain all my recent contemplation of being in other places – a phenomenon similar to that which I experienced during the short, cold days of this period last year. At least there is no profoundly flawed statistics course happening at the same time, this year.

I hope the new Canadian High Commissioner to London (James Wright) decides to perpetuate his predecessor Mel Cappe’s tradition of inviting Canadian grad students in the UK for a Christmas party in the official residence. I got my invitation at around this time last year, and had a good time in London at the start of December. It was my first trek out of Oxford, since first arriving from Vancouver.

No plans yet, for Christmas. My father is returning to Vancouver on the 14th of December and – barring the need to work on my thesis – I have no other commitments.

PS. Sorry to not have written something more interesting. My brain has been barely functioning all day, after staying up until after 4:00am having an extended philosophical discussion with Tristan. I really need to start enforcing a disengagement with MSN after 1:00am, no matter how interesting ongoing conversations may be.

Antipodean thoughts

Probably prompted by the miserable weather in the past few days, I have been looking through photos online from the Burning Man Festival. For those who haven’t heard of it, the festival is an eight day long event in Black Rock Desert in Nevada. It involves the creation of a temporary city and lots of crazy art and expression. This year’s theme – about the relationship between nature and humanity – sounds especially pertinent. If nothing else, it would provide some superb photographic opportunities.

I think it would be an awesome road trip objective: especially if the cadre of those going included Tristan and Meaghan Beattie.

[Update: 4:30pm] The more I read about this, the more intensely I want to go. Who else would be up for it and thinks they could spare the time at the end of this summer? It runs from Monday, August 28th to Monday, September 4th. Jonathan? Alison? Kate? Neal? Lauren? Sarah P? Lindi? Sasha W? Others? I would be keen to go with any/all of you.

Carbon offsets

Bug on a flower

Cycling home with a £5 quarter-kilo of Fair Trade coffee, I found myself thinking about carbon offsets. These are financial instruments in which an individual or group pays someone else to reduce the carbon emissions they would otherwise have produced, so as to offset the buying individuals own carbon emissions. Al Gore used them to make the production of An Inconvenient Truth carbon neutral. They were also used by The Economist to make their Survey on Climate Change (Subscription required) carbon neutral. At the end of the opening article, they explain:

This survey, which generated about 118 tonnes of carbon dioxide from flights, car journeys, paper production, printing and distribution, has been carbon-neutralised through the Carbon Neutral Company. The cost was £590; the money was spent on capturing methane from an American mine.

According to the calculator at climatecrisis.org (the site set up by Al Gore to accompany his book and film), my annual carbon emissions are about 1.6 tons, including two trans-Atlantic flights a year. Not having a car and living in a shared dwelling makes a big difference, even if all our power is coming from the huge coal plant at Didcot.

At the rate The Economist paid, I could offset that for £8. It might be a worthwhile thing to include in my thesis. My only problem with it all is that it is hard to tell which of the many websites that sell offsets actually provide what they claim. There has been a kerfuffle recently about dodgy wind power cards. Does anyone know of a reputable place where I can offset those 1600 kilos of carbon? This site looks like a possibility.

Obviously, paying for the offsetting of your own carbon isn’t an adequate response to the issue of climate change (any more than buying Fair Trade coffee is an adequate response to global poverty), but it couldn’t hurt. It is also a potentially useful demonstration of how seriously you take the problem

[Update: 5:00pm] According to the company The Economist used, one round-trip flight from London to Vancouver generates 1.7 tonnes of CO2. As such, it would seem appropriate to offset at least four or five tonnes a year, to cover electricity, heating (however St. Antony’s does it), and travel.