East Meets West - Istanbul

I am not sure why, but I have always wanted to go to Istanbul. There is something about the city that has a huge draw for me. So when my friend Erin (my partner in crime from Paris) mentioned that she was interested in going, I jumped on the opportunity. To make the situation even better, we knew someone who lived in Istanbul who could show us around…well, sort of, I use the term “knew” loosely. My mom knew his mom through her walking group… so in Lafayette terms we were practically family.

Anyways, connections aside, the trip was absolutely amazing. Joe, my new friend, was a gracious host and tour guide to both Erin and me. Not only did he let us crash at his place in Taksim (the heart of the city), he showed us around to all of the historical sites, took us to the best restaurants and introduced us to some of his Turkish friends. We were able to get the best experience that most people visiting Istanbul would never have.

Now, Erin and I typically do not check out the “sites” when visiting a new city or country but prefer to experience the lifestyle by means of cafes and bars. We made an exception for Istanbul however due to the history and diverse culture of the city. We checked out the Blue Mosque, Aya Sofia, Cisterns, Spice Market, Grand Bazaar and my favorite, French Street, a cute street full of restaurants and shops, which is not in most tour books, but was shown to us by Joe. In addition, thanks to Joe, we had the opportunity to hang out in beautiful rug shop, surrounded by antique rugs, drinking Turkish coffee with one of his Turkish friends, who, in addition, showed us a private, cistern under the building.

Erin and I rewarded ourselves for being so historical and cultural with amazing Turkish food. On Saturday evening we had dinner at a traditional Turkish restaurant, where we were served endless tapas, perfectly complemented by a bottle of Raka (the Turkish alcohol similar to Ouzo) and live music. I could not imagine the evening getting any better. But just as I was expecting to wrap up and head to a bar, the Turkish people surprised me yet again….the restaurant turned into an Eastern version of Oktoberfest! Women and men were on their feet and chairs dancing and singing around the tables to the live traditional music, encouraging even Erin and I to participate. Unlike Oktoberfest however, everyone was happy and not completely blitzed. Apparently, alcohol is not required to dance on tables in Istanbul. Note: this theory was not only tested at dinner on Saturday night, but also at a dance club on Friday evening, where I have never seen so many happy and yet sober people dancing and singing. The theory was also confirmed by some of Joe’s friends.

Bottom line, I have never met a more friendly and happy culture in all of my travels. Tesekkurler, Joe! (pronounced Te che coo lar)

A Blog on the Boogg

When I first moved to Switzerland, I was informed of the traditional holiday of Sechseläuten, the Swiss version of Groundhog Day. As Groundhog Day is one of my favorite US holidays I was ecstatic and stoked to partake in the festivities. My excitement grew even more when I found out we got a half day to celebrate the occasion (I still believe we should receive a full day off to celebrate the appearance of Punxsutawney Phil) AND the occasion is marked by the explosion of a dynamite stuffed snowman (the Böögg).

For those not familiar with the holiday, the day is to celebrate the beginning of spring and the increase of the work day to 6 pm. It includes a parade of the guilds followed by the lighting of the Böögg, a snowman, filled with explosives, atop a 30 foot bonfire. Apparently, when the Swiss decide to do something, they definitely do it right, especially when it comes to dynamite. The time between the lighting of the bonfire and the explosion of the Böögg`s head is indicative of the coming summer.

Like I said, I was excited, since this holiday has the makings of greatness.

But, like all most things that I look forward to, the actual event was a bit of a let down. It rained…and not just a drizzle, it dumped hurricane style all day long. So much so that by the time the bonfire was lit, it was more of a smoke stack then a blaze of glory. Apparently the firemen had to spray the bonfire with kerosene after initial ignition. The fire eventually picked up and about 20 minutes into the event, with only a few minor explosions, the only thing that remained of the Böögg was a large piece of the neck hanging from the stake. Expecting a larger explosion, but not seeing anything left to burn, some of the crowd started to disperse. Finally after 26 minutes and 1 second, the head exploded, marking the beginning of another bad summer.

And I thought last summer’s weather was bad…

Dating in Switzerland

When I moved from San Francisco to Switzerland, I knew I would run into moments of culture shock and confusion about the daily life. I expected that brief moment of panic at the grocery store trying to figure out what was detergent and what was bleach, the deer in head lights look when asked a question in Swiss German and all other fun quirks that made me want to move abroad to begin with. What I didn’t realize was that the main point of confusion would be centered around the customs and rituals of dating (not only Swiss, but every other country represented in this small city of 375K). As if dating wasn’t hard enough in my own Country and own language, I now have to figure out in which cultures 1 phone call a week is too much and in which 5 SMS messages a day isn’t enough; when you are expected to pay (apparently it is “dutch” until you are serious) and when he feels comfortable enough to fart in front of you (no joke).

I have officially given up. Mom, dad, forget the wedding, future son-in-law and grandchildren and get familiar with and embrace my future as a cat lady.