Eating Habits - March 28th

(Saddleman, Franziska, Bilal and Suzan - in the Istanbul restaurant where they welcome comments, sort of)

I am open to advisement from Middle Eastern friends but I think eastern and western people go to restaurants with different objectives in mind, at least regarding the food.

In the West, a restaurant meal is a treat. To enjoy something that you would not normally eat at home, perhaps because it requires special ingredients or takes time to prepare.

In the (Middle) East people go to restaurants to see if it can possibly measure up to their own home cooking. Of course it can't. And today it didn't. So Suzan's Dad let it be known.

It was the rice in the Dolma. It wasn't the right sort. So he had a discussion with the waiter, and then with the chef. Perhaps the water that the rice was cooked in wasn't correct. So a bottle was brought out and the trace content list scrutinized. Ah! the calcium and salt may be a little high. But come to think of it, the meat was not perfect. Much downward kneeding of their own flanks by all concerned. This is where you need to take the meat from the sheep for good Dolma.

The chef may have been a little put out by the criticism but it was intended to be constructive. If he wants an easy life then he should have a sign in the front window saying "English Customers Only Please". But then his takings may go down a bit and he would not have access to such free expert advice.

Sitting on Top of the World

Wouldn't you know it, Sally said that I should take lots of photos. Then the best one comes along and I didn't have my camera. Not that I could have done it justice.

We looked out of the top floor balcony of Suzan's office at the Turkish-German Orient Institute. Laid out before us was a panorama that took your breath away, stretching from high up the Bosphorus to our left, into the Sea of Marmara to our right, across to Asia and around to the Golden Horn. The expanse of blue water in the afternoon sun was mesmerising but here was 1,000 years or more of history: The Galata Tower, Suleymaniye and Blue Mosques, Aya Sofia and the Grand Bazaar, plus the Bosphorus bridges.

Sorry that I did not get a picture but the view is stored away on my own little internal SIM card. (and Suzan said later that she maybe able to send me one)

Seeking Certainty

In the West we crave certainty. That's why chain restaurants and brands thrive.  We want to know what we are getting and what the price is. To some extent we are willing to pay a premium for that knowledge. We hate to haggle. I have seen it in my recent behaviour.

You have heard it before, I want to take bike with me on the train. "What! That may not be possible. You must ask the conductor." But the ticket needs to be bought soon, not when the train is about to leave." Perhaps there in lies a clue. It is not a no, it signifies that something more is involved. I buy the ticket. "And for the bike?"

"I speak with the manager. Come back later"

I come back later."You may have to pay." Ah, progress.

"How much? I will have to change some more money and do not want to leave with too much local currency."

"Maybe some dollars or euros". I obtain small denomination euro notes.

Board indicates departure platform, I rush with bike.

"Ah hallo Sir, the man with the bike. I have arranged a private sleeping compartment for you and bike". He helps me get on board. "It will cost 10 euros."

So it wasn't just the price. Things had to be arranged. It involved a lot of uncertainty.

 Private Train Accomodation for Bike and I, to Istanbul

Must Try Harder

Sally works hard at nurturing relationships, always keeping in touch. She phones me every evening while I am on this trip just to catch up and check everything is OK. She does it too with friends. No one has ever dropped off Sally's address list if she could help it. To her it is never a chore, she loves it.

Me? Too often I need a reason to call. I try hard to change, to call just to say hi. My friend Mark once said that he was glad that he'd made the effort to become friends with me. That was a real shock, a revolutionary concept to me. I loved him for it.

The trouble is that it's difficult to change completely. Some friends may rightly say that I don't work at it as much as I could. They are probably right. But I am trying. Also it's one of the reasons that I married Sally. Her friends are my friends too.

Small Steps, Big Leaps

It takes all types, even when you share many of the same genes. Me, I'm practical and set myself easily achievable goals. My brother goes for the bigger things, like answering the fundamental questions of life. Ones that I don't even get to ask. I guess it can be a blessing and a burden.

He gets to look over the horizon to see what's out there, whereas I would think, likely it's another hill. I just focus on the ground in front of me so that I don't fall off the bike. My brother leaps overall that. As I say, it takes all sorts.

Being Bulgarian

"We are a real mixture", he said "With influences from lots of countries. It's because we are at a continental cross roads, Europe to the West, Asia to the East. People have to come through Bulgaria via the land route."

"We don't have a single race, like blond haired Scandinavians. Here you see fair, dark and everything in between." Fair haired himself he was rather disparaging of his own culture but perhaps that comes from youth when everywhere else is new and exciting. Not yet old enough to appreciate what he has.

"We don't have a culture like in the West. I am a bit ashamed." But he shouldn't be. "We are all individuals" he added, perhaps in a way to distance himself.  But then  maybe that captures the essence of being Bulgarian. When you are at a cross roads you see all different types and are influenced by them. If you can appreciate, absorb and not reject, then that is a strength in itself.

 Bulgarian `Louis Armstrong` plays "I Did it My Way"in Sofia park

One for Phill - Springtime Meeting of Sofia Motorbike Enthusiasts - A couple of Ducatti's but no Motor Guzzi's

No Bones to Pick

Meet my friend Igor, the best fish filleter in the Western Hemisphere. No bones to pick out of your meal with Igor. He proved it for 15 years in a restaurant next to the Stefan Dom in Vienna, Well known he was. Even got his picture taken with Mohammed Ali.

Now he's back in Serbia due to a little visa problem (we didn't go into the details), sepaerated from his wife and three children. Nice guy. Good luck Igor.