Scotland is For the People

We left Istanbul at the right time. On our last day, I noticed increasing military presence while we were walking around Taksim and left the area sooner than planned. Later, I saw that street on the news as a site of a mass protest because another set of political opponents (the secular ones) were arrested. A few protestors were also arrested. International news channels were off the air, and there was an attempt to take the local news channel I was currently watching off the air as well. We flew to Edinburgh the next day.

Edinburgh is as I remember it from almost 15 years ago. The sand-colored bricks and sloping, interwoven layers that define the topography of the city are still incredibly beautiful. It still has the spooky aura I loved so much when I was last here. 

Scotland has been "for the people" longer than many other places in Europe, and you can see traces of this everywhere. When I spent an unexpected extra hour at the National Library, I learned that the Scottish government provided funding for Frederick Douglass, Moses Roper, Josiah Henson, and other American abolitionist writers for their contributions to the struggle for freedom. They also funded Beth Junor, Yellow Gate Camp, and other feminist activists.

I learned that the first printed works in Scotland weren't religious texts--they were poems and stories written by Scots. 

Later, at the National Gallery, I learned that by the mid-19th century, Scottish artists were painting scenes of the everyday life of working people, and selling this art to middle class folks in addition to aristocrats and royalty.

The paintings with more dynamic movement really stood out to me:

The Schule Skailin, by Sir George Harvey, shows the end of a school day.

The Curlers, by Sir George Harvey, shows the newly popular sport of Curling, which was starting to eclipse golf as Scotland's most popular and socially inclusive sport. This painting shows people of all social classes playing together. It had also been recently introduced in Canada by Scottish emigrants.

Selling Fruit, by Walter Geikie, is one of the many snapshots of life he drew on his regular walks around Edinburgh. He was deaf, and is known for his powers of observation, especially expressions and gestures.

Topkapi Palace

"I love this. Humans have been the same for so long," I coo, pressed against a glass cube protecting the 18th century sherbet jug inside. Its scalloped, geometric pattern reminds me of the millennial pineapple... or art deco stained glass... or 80s furniture.

"There's another dissertation for ya," Kendon says. 

I laugh.

"You could put it on your bloOoog," he adds, trying to convince me it'll be fun.

"Can you imagine? Blogging a dissertation..." I say, laughing again, "although honestly? What a flex." 

Kendon likes to do things together, and since he's been writing a dissertation for 3 years, he wants all his friends to write dissertations too. Getting us to start playing Simcity was an easier sell.

We're exploring Topkapi Palace, the former home of Istanbul's Sultans and now a museum with a very diverse collection. So far we've seen Ottoman clothing, libraries, household items, weapons, religious relics, and are currently in the kitchen exhibits. I'm learning a lot, and grateful they don't have the comically biased messaging we saw at the exhibits at the Blue Mosque ("while we acknowledge that this technology/technique was invented by so-and-so in Asia/Europe/Africa, it was only because of this particular tweak by our beloved Ottoman man that the technology became useful, so really he is the most important.") Topkapi Palace shows the interconnectedness of Istanbul without the need to posture itself. 

As I browse various food vessels, many of which were gifts from international diplomats over the years, I'm struck by how familiar their styles are.

"This one reminds me of the whimsical ceramics Gen Z loves. Like those cake mirrors."

"And what about this? Tell me you haven't seen this at Olive Garden."

Trends come in cycles, and microtrends come in faster cycles, but these cycles seem to have always existed. I don't say this so you'll agonize over whether "original" creative ideas can exist. I think it's beautiful that everything we make connects us to people throughout history and cultures. Forms and shapes don't have to be original to be valuable. 

Besides, so much of what we create is inspired by patterns we see in nature anyway. If letting nature do more of the thinking gives us more time to enjoy baklava, I'm not complaining. 

Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque

"Well now it looks huge!" Kendon says, "why does it look bigger when you're further away?"

I'm too distracted by the smell of roasted corn to think about scale factors right now. Roasted corn is my favorite monsoon snack but it's way too hot to eat right now. Right? Right.

We are walking back towards the Hagia Sophia after visiting the museum nearby. I decide not to get the corn because it really is too hot to enjoy, and our conversation eventually returns to the complexities of repatriating artifacts, especially in places that are politically or geologically unstable. I share that what happened to Khaled al Asaad still rattles me, and that it reshaped how I made sense of the preservation and restoration of historic artifacts. 

We talk about this as we read about the cycles of destruction and rebuilding and destruction and rebuilding of this very building.

The Hagia Sophia was an Eastern Orthodox Church, then a Roman Catholic Church, then an Eastern Orthodox Church again, then a Mosque, then a museum, then a Mosque again. In many of these eras, it was looted, artifacts were destroyed, and an earthquake destroyed the roof and made some of the arches lopsided. 

Inside, it very much feels like a duomo. Many of the mosaics are different, and the aisles have been repurposed to be walkways to observe the nave, now the prayer room. The dome has words from the Quran where the portrait of Jesus used to be. But you can tell where the pews were. The frescoes of Mary and the disciples on one of the domes are covered with a white cloth. The building feels like it was retrofitted to reflect the changing community that surrounds it.  And I'm grateful that some of the art was preserved, even if its covered up.

  

The Blue Mosque, on the other hand, has very clearly been a (very beautiful) Mosque the whole time. Depictions of flowers and reeds cover the mosque's interior almost entirely. Detailed patterns in baby blue, mustard yellow, and burnt sienna cover the walls, columns, and arches. The stained glass shows the same in vibrant steel blue, kelly green, and amber. 

If you're wondering, sometimes huge objects like mountains and buildings can look bigger when you're further away because of the relative distance between your eyes and the things around it. Let's say you're 1000 feet away from a big building and 20 feet away from a roasted corn cart. If you walk 20 feet further, you're 40ft away from the cart and 1020ft away from the building. The distance between you and the cart has doubled, making it look smaller, but you're only slightly farther away from the building so it probably looks the same. Because the cart looks smaller while building doesn't, it can make the building look bigger in comparison.

Istanbul: First Impressions

"Is it possible..." THUD "...potholes..." THUD "...tarmac... airport?" I type into my phone as my plane prepares to take off. 

Generally not, but sometimes. 

Cool.

I was warned that this airport would disappoint me. Perhaps even infuriate me. But Frankfurt's airport has confused me.

Our second security screening took over an hour to process about a hundred people. The only place to fill a water bottle on both floors I had access to was out of order. I couldn't take the risk of looking on the third or fourth floor because I would miss my flight if I had to go through security again. The yoga rooms I was excited to stretch in after 10 hours on a plane are on the third and fourth floor. I walked several laps of the first and second floor instead.

The first (and only?) time I remember being at this airport is when I was moving to the US. I remember telling my dad this was the best airport ever because I saw a Toblerone for the first time. Triangle chocolate distracted me from there being only one water fountain.

No matter, we take off soon enough and a short three hours later, I see a familiar kind of  sunshine that jolts me back to my childhood. Istanbul is bright. 

A taxi in to Istanbul from the airport takes 60 minutes, and the Havaina bus to Aksaray will get you there in 68 minutes with better views. The transit system is pretty easy to figure out, with the added bonus of prices being transparent.

As we gently putter across the Turkish countryside, I see familiar evergreen trees dotting the rolling hills, and layers of red and purple silt where it's dry enough. 20 minutes later, there are clusters of tall, silver buildings. Condos, rooftop lounges, office buildings, with an occasional dome peeking through. All under the very bright sun. I can't wait to explore.

Aksaray Station in Istanbul 

The Best Pens You'll Find

Bad pens infuriate me. Scratchy pens that leave a faint trail of ink in uneven thickness all over my paper infuriate me. 

Let's just say I'm always on the lookout for a good pen. Once you use a pen that leaves a thick, even coat of ink, you'll never go back to generics. Trust me.

THE BEST BLACK PEN: Pilot V5 RT (the RT stands for retractible)

The retractible versions are getting increasingly hard to find at stores. Pilot V5s have caps (non-retractible) and are easier to find, but I've had a few of them leak all over my hands when I open the cap, so I stick to the retractible version.

THE BEST COLOR PENS: Paper Mate Flair 

I'm a high school teacher, so I use a lot of colored pens for grading. I'm also a grad student, so I use colored pens for outlining articles. These pens are amazing for color coding notes, organizing information when you outline, and--most importantly--doodling. They write like thin markers, so you can't always use both sides of the paper, and they run out of ink more quickly than Pilot pens, but they're so good that I don't even flinch before buying a new set. I usually get the 5-pack, but a lot of my teacher-friends opt for the 12 or 24 packs because of the larger variety of colors.

(Photos at Giant Coffee in Phoenix)