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Ask Carpetblogger: Is There a Decent Indian Joint in Istanbul?

There is no horse so dead it cannot be beaten a bit harder, but you might have heard that it's hard to get authentic non-Turkish food in Istanbul. There are many reasons, we theorize, for this, ranging from Turks' unadventurous palates and propensity against emigration, to the city's lack of immigrants and foreign laborers.

But here's a quiz: In what neighborhood are you most likely to find edible Indian, Japanese, Arabic and Korean (reputedly Chinese too, but that's unverified)?

Surprisingly, "none of them" is not the correct answer. Nor is foreigner-friendly Cihangir (an international restaurant in Cihangir is almost certainly guaranteed to be awful and/or stupid expensive).  Sultanahmet is a wasteland and should be avoided by people who eat. Aksaray could be reliable, if you want food produced by different kinds of Turks (Uighur, Uzbek etc), which you may (though the best reason to go to Aksaray, the Georgian Cafe Euro, recently closed. Super sad face)

The answer: concrete, sterile Talimhane, an area of undistinguished mid-priced boxy hotels favored by tour groups and business travellers, just off Taksim Square. Actually, it makes a great deal of sense, if you think about it.

Abandon the idea that people outside North America or Europe or UK crave diversity in their diet. Most folks prefer their köfte, vindaloo, mapu dofu and taboulleh when they travel, just like they have at home every damn day (certainly true for some North American/European/UK demographics as well). Sure, visitors will give köfte and kebab a whirl, but they prefer the familiar. Restaurants in Talimhane know this, and accordingly, several are serving authentic meals to groups of tourists, visiting business travellers and tiny expat communities. Turks aren't the primary market for non-Turkish food, so placing your restaurant in touristy Talimhane where no one actually lives isn't going hurt you that much.

We have always theorized this was true, and Imran, the charming owner of Musafir Indian restaurant in Talimhane confirmed it when we visited the other night with our grubby companions. An Indian (Pakistani?) from Manchester, Imran also confirmed another theory of ours: if you want to make the real thing, you have to import the right ingredients, probably in your suitcase. From one suitcase importer to another: respect.

Musafir serves delicious Indian meals -- all the usual dishes --at reasonable prices with friendly service, thus checking all key boxes. Most of the diners were Indians -- tourists, mostly, but some businesspeople and expats -- which we found encouraging. That a restaurant appeals to national tastes, rather than Turkish, bodes well. He asked our advice on the wine list, which we enthusiastically gave. We asked him why we never knew his place was so good (it's been there for ten years) and why he's not on Yemek Sepeti, the thing that works best in Turkey. He's working on both. Musafir receives the coveted Carpetblog stamp of approval, which should help him out a lot.

Musafir is a few blocks from Gaya Korean, which we have praised for its fresh and authentic ingredients (and pork!). There's also a Japanese restaurant nearby, of which one grubby companion approves, a Chinese place (which has gone unreviewed by our contemporaries as far as we know) and the cheap and cheerful Falafel House, which serves by far the best falafel in the city and is a longtime Carpetblog favorite.

It's unlikely that you're going to get "the best Indian/Korean/Japanese meal ever" at these joints. You will, however, get a no-nonsense* meal designed to please visitors and expats with lowered expectations.

*Speaking of nonsense, we visited the trendy new Indochine (rumored to be Vietnamese) on Kumbaraci, relatively early on Saturday night, only to be told that the empty restaurant could neither seat three people without a reservation nor allow them to eat in the bar. That's exactly the sort of nonsense we expect from Istanbul's trendy restaurants and why eating out here so frequently irks. Our expectations for getting a good Vietnamese meal there are even lower than they were when we entered, which is hard to imagine.

 

Things on Which War Should be Declared: Istanbul Edition

If you follow the US news, you might be aware that war has been declared on women, contraception and, in general, common sense. If you are in Istanbul, you might know that, in addition to the usual things, war has been declared on bazaar traders who shout too much (though, as The Turkish Life correctly points out, the most casual observer can tell that's more of an urban myth than a thing that is actually happening).

Are loud bazaarcıs Istanbul's biggest offense? They aren't even really the biggest offense in bazaars, in our opinion. But, since war declaring seems to be a trend and we don't want to be left behind, there are a number of other things in Istanbul on which we suggest War Be Declared.

Street Cats: Shut up, catlovers -- here's a disgusting story that justifies our long-held position that Istanbul's street cat population is out of control. Dining in a pleasant garden in Cihangir yesterday, a nasty cat on top of a wall backs its hairy cat anus up and sprays all the tables below -- one of which we had been recently sitting at with our charming and well-dressed companions. As if the pervasive odor of cat piss in every building entryway wasn't enough, now it comes in your coffee*.

If you can't get on board with a conventional war on street cats, perhaps you can support our more moderate position in favor of population control via the introduction of natural predators. (BTW, we made that GIF ourselves, a medium which is probably going to be our primary creative outlet from now on. From CVs, to emails, to illustrating petty gossip, there really isn't a message that can't be enhanced with a GIF).

*To the waiter's credit, he did remove the wet sugar packets and salt and pepper shakers and cursorily wipe the table off after we pointed it out to him. The food service sector in Istanbul remains beyond reproach.

Scooter-borne delivery drivers: As the city's traffic becomes more intractable and more Istanbullus get money, the population of scooter drivers -- mostly young men who would be equally treacherous drivers in cars -- has exploded. It's no longer a matter of looking both ways before crossing a one-way street, it's a matter of looking both ways before stepping onto a sidewalk, or a pedestrian zone or out your front door, lest you become part of Bambi's paket servis.

Fortunately, there may be some overlap in the interests of scooter driver and street cat natural predators. Another cackle of hyenas, please!

Neighbors who Burn Coal and Pieces of Laminate in May: We know gaz is expensive. We know the draft can be lethal. But Istanbul's trademark smell of burning coal and cat piss should be confined to winter. If it gets below 60 degrees in May, instead of stuffing the soba with pieces of old furniture you found in the street, put on a goddam sweater. Your black-smoke belching chimney is directly below our balcony and you might be troubled to learn how many common (and uncommon) household items could, with good aim, be lodged in it.

The War on Outside Seating in Beyoğlu: This is a war on which war needs to be declared. COME ON! It's been a year, summer's here and sitting inside when it's 1000 degrees out is unacceptable. What kind of city bans --rather than just regulates -- outdoor seating? Rumors are flying that some outdoor seating is returning (creeping tablism has been growing on Galata Meydan for a couple months now), at a greater cost to restaurant owners, which will surely have no impact at all on already-inflated eating and drinking prices. But as of yesterday, Urban Sokak was as sad and silent as it has been for the last year.

 Maybe what Urban Sokak really needs is some hyenas.

Higher Prices for Foreigners at Orhan Pamuk's Museum of Innocence. Seriously, what kind of museum in a developed country gets away with charging foreigners more for tickets? We like Orhan Pamuk, enjoyed the book and have heard great things about the museum. But 25TL tickets for foreigners, compared to 15TL for Turks, is fucking backwards.  If we were Orhan Pamuk, we'd extract a pound of flesh from the people who wanted to throw us in jail for "insulting Turkishness," rather the people who said, "uh, y'alls ever heard of free speech?"  It costs as much for foreigners to enter the MOI as it does to visit the Hagia Sofia. The only other museum we've come across that has this pricing structure is Miniaturk. Miniaturk is cheaper, too, and has scale mini-models of OPET stations and Ataturk airport.

Would pay extra at MOI if there were hyenas.

 

 

Airline Passengers as Explained by their Pants: Istanbul Edition

One thousand apologies to McSweeny's for ripping off its post, Airline Passengers as Explained by Their Pants, but it was too America-centric for our taste. As the primary hub serving Crapistan, Istanbul's Ataturk airport (IST) deserves its own list.

Red tracksuit: Will vomit in the aisle.

White hiphuggers with gold pinstripes, matching sport coat, jheri curls: THY 365 to Tripoli is now boarding.

Pleated shiny slacks, with Hugoe Bose label, pointy toed shoes: Will applaud upon touchdown in Erbil.

Cargo pants and a polo shirt with a corporate logo: Checked a stun grenade, two tasers and steroid powder.

Nothing but a white towel: Checked six liters of Zamzam in Jeddah. At carousel, retrieves two litres and two empty plastic jugs. :(

Low rise jeans, muffintop: Fell in love with her waiter, sobs the whole flight back to Manchester.

Dirty white shalwar: Will leave footprints on the toilet seat.

Clean, light blue shalwar: Asks flight attendant which direction is Mecca, does ablutions in the toilet.

Leopard skin capris with rhinestone seams, stiletto heels: Did not pay for her own ticket.

Stonewashed jeans with matching jacket: Passport has “stan” somewhere on the front cover.

Quik-dry travelpants with 7+ zippered pockets, white running shoes: Loved the food, is no longer afraid of Muslims.

Pleather jeans with a camel toe: Checked 75 kilos of red Chinese-made bras.

Baggy cotton trousers, floral: Put a lamb in the overhead bin.

Baggy cotton trousers, striped: Aspriational busker, put a juggling kit in the bin (Thanks to @AJKhn.)

Any we missed? Do add in the comments, or send via twitter @carpetblogger1

 

Carpetblog Recommends: Georgian and Korean in Istanbul

Among our favorite hobbies here at Carpetblog is ranting about Istanbul's lack of ethnic restaurants. After years of listening to easily disputable claims of Istanbul being a diverse, cosmopolitan city (we've got all kinds of Anatolian emigrants!), we are pleased report that two outstanding establishments form the backbone of the very, very slim body of non-Turkish food here.

Both are well off the traditional Lebanese/Indian/Mexican/Pakistani/Thai/Chinese axis* taken for granted in any North American or European city with a population of more than 100,000. Istanbul still has none in that category that can serve a passibly authentic meal at a reasonable price (or at any price, really).

NEWS FLASH: CAFE EURO IS CLOSED NOW! :(   The first is Cafe Euro, a bus station Georgian hole-in-the-wall in Aksaray which has already been praised on these pages and others and most recently, here.  That this place has been around for six years and we only discovered it last summer is one of our biggest failings as an expat. The excellence of its khingali as well as the authenticity of its post-Soviet atmosphere have since been verified by multiple Bakuvitsi. Ingredients are delivered from Kutaisi weekly, but unlike other writers, we're not going to blabber away about what day that happens. You should go on Saturday.

They've got homemade chacha, and, if the planets are aligned, tarkhun (don't let them talk you into trying that other florescent green liquid instead -- it's vile). The other big failing of the Eurasia review is that the reporter failed to inquire about deliveries of the forbidden meat. He has since been sent to a re-education camp.

The menu is neither extensive nor available in written form and it helps a lot if you speak Russian (or Georgian), but this is the real thing. It's cheap, cheap too; we have been told you can sit there all afternoon drinking and eating for about 30TL. Go there, preferably with someone who knows Georgian food and how to wield a knife. You'll make new friends who will share village wine from a jug and you'll leave smelling like a post-Soviet bus station. The owner's money quote from the Eurasianet review: "not all my customers are like you.”

Cafe Euro is at the entrance of a giant bus station in Aksaray. You didn't know there was one? Well, there is. It's called Emniyet Garaji and it's on Küçuk Langa Cad. Google it. You can walk there from the Aksaray or Yusufpaşa tram stops.

The second winner is Gaya Korean restaurant. It, too, has been around for awhile but has recently experienced an inexplicable surge in popularity among Carpetblogger's contemporaries. Indeed, of the only two really delicious meals we have eaten lately that were not served in a bus station, both were at Gaya.

Of all major Asian cuisines, we're least familiar with Korean so we don't really know the names of things. But, based on the noodles that look like glassy eels and the fuzzy spicy pickled leaves, we're going to guess the ingredients are imported from the motherland and prepared with love by a Korean mother for her only son. Most importantly, there's pork, cooked right there on the table in front of you (Is this the only non-pizza restaurant in Istanbul where you can order the forbidden meat? Discuss). We will go back there often, specifically to eat the spicy tofu. 

Most of the other diners in its rather sterile and empty space are either Korean businessmen or post-Soviet prostitutes, which we view as vote of confidence. It's not particularly cheap (60-70TL for a giant set meal, including pork and maybe an Efes or two) but it's more than you can eat and it's delicious. The service is friendly but not exactly attentive. Don't be in a hurry.

Gaya is near Taksim, on Abdulhak Hamit Caddesi, No. 50, in the Green Park Hotel.

 *Please, spare yourself the indignity of arguing there is a credible example of any of these cuisines in Istanbul. We know them all.

Ask Carpetblogger: How Can Ukraine Increase its Appeal to Futbol Hooligans? NSFW, BTW

Dear Carpetblogger,

The Eurocup 2012 soccer tournament in Ukraine this year is finding that they have sold only half the tickets they should have by now. European soccer hooligan wannabes are blanching at the 500 Euro per night for three star crapotels. My question for you...don't Ukrainians realize that if they don't charge reasonable prices, nobody will come?

Yours truly,

Kpic

Dear Kpic:

Thanks for the question! We know that you, like us, care about both Ukraine and futbol so we're going to answer this question with more than the usual care and seriousness.

As you probably know, Carpetblogger devoted much of her youth to selling things no one wants, namely, Democrats. Therefore, we are uniquely positioned to help Ukraine address its issues.

Ukraine's government is run by a breathtakingly corrupt cabal of thugs, its economy is near collapse and its sullenly incompetent service sector is woefully unprepared to meet the high standards in cuisine and accommodation demanded by sophisticated world futbol fans. These negatives are hard to overcome, it's true. But Ukraine is not without natural advantages. As a market research professional, we encourage Ukraine to play to its strengths.

Ask Carpetblogger: Should I bring Turkish wine to a party?

First question! It's a very important one.

Dear Carpetblogger:

Booze is so expensive in Turkey! I know I should be polite and bring something to drink to dinner and parties but I am a young freelancer and have no money. Is it ever ok to bring Turkish wine or will I be shunned like a slutty Amish girl?

Potential Pariah

 

Dear Pariah:

This is possibly the most vexing etiquette dilemma facing party-goers in Istanbul today. Since Istanbul Eats has slogged into the Turkish wine debate with a new column that should be called OK, This One's Not That Bad, your question is more timely than ever.  It's wise to seek guidance.

Carpetblogger has long held that Turkish wine is the best of the Black Sea region, if you don't count Georgian and Bulgarian, and, some have argued -- but we don't necessarily agree -- Moldovan. We also believe that, while Muslims excel in many things, including hair removal and cooking meat on a stick, making liquor is not one of them.

Even we are willing to admit that Turkish wine is better than it used to be. It is possible to find a reasonably priced bottle that won't make you sick (if you do find one, buy it by the case). Some people may vociferously object to the following advice, but we here at Ask Carpetblogger are pragmatists and sympathize with the poor prole drinker. The short answer, is "sure, go ahead, bring Turkish wine but proceed with caution."

Our caveats:

• Because of taxes and other Muslim what-nots, wine is stupid expensive in Turkey. Plus, there's the "if it's expensive it must be good" developing world elitny surcharge. Just because a bottle of Turkish wine is expensive, doesn't mean it's any good. It may, at the high end, be drinkable but it's still probably a terrible value. There are an increasing number of decent wines being produced by vintners on some of the Aegean Islands, and we would look them up and tell you what they are but you have google too. If you really, really, really want to try Turkish wine, go to one of these places. They'll let you sample different varietals and explain which goes best with beyaz peynir and sucuk. Still, if you're going to drop some cash on a bottle that you're hoping will get you some action, do not buy Turkish. 

• Do not bring any bottle of Turkish wine that costs less than 10 TL. It is wine-colored poison. You will be judged, harshly and publicly.

• Buy the best bottle of imported you can afford. You'll probably have to go to a wine shop, since supermarket/tekel supplies can be limited. Most wine shops usually have some off-brand French or Italian plonk for 20TL or less. It's still a ridiculous price for crap wine, but will be better than a Turkish label at the same price, guaranteed.

• Think of how much more popular you'll be if you bring something imported and unusual, even if it's cheap. Spanish? Sure. Italian? Great. Even Bulgarian gets an A for effort. Greek, if you must. Stuffing your baggage and maxing out at duty free is part of the social contract. Do your part.

• Do not, under any circumstances, bring local and drink imported. Some hostesses are implementing a colored wristband system at parties as a mechanism to publicly shame those who bring Buzbağ and drink Bordeaux. Some of those people are impossible to shame, however. They know who they are.

Before you go and say "Carpetblogger, why are you such a fucking snob?" (uh, why water is wet?), let us be clear that we do not discriminate against cheap wine. We LOVE cheap wine. We just hate shitty wine in general and expensive shitty wine in particular. Maybe someday Turkish wine will be as good as Greek wine and we'll have to find a new target.

In the meantime, if you're invited to a sangria or mulled wine party chez Carpetblogger you know that there's an oversupply of Angora, Buzbağ and Deluca. The next day will be rough. We call it payback.

 

 

 

A New Carpetblog Feature! Ask An Expat

Inspiration often comes from the unlikeliest sources. Carpetblog recently came across the NYT  India Ink blog's new "Agony Auntie"  feature, designed to help expats in India avoid embarrassment. We thought "How useful! We know lots of people who could benefit from something like that. Someone should do it for Turkey." 

So, we reached out to The Unaccompanied Lady. Because there are few expat issues on which Carpetblogger and Unaccompanied Lady do not have informed opinions and because we agree on nearly everything, this will be a joint venture. We plan to distinguish ourselves from India Ink's feature by making it clear from the outset that helping expats -- especially people we know -- avoid embarrassment is low on our list of objectives. Also, it won't be lame.

In the unlikely event we can't answer a question, or make up a sufficient response, we will outsource questions to our stable of experts with specialized knowledge of things, such as Borko or Red State Sibling, or other secret, surprise guests whom we have yet to identify (but we have ideas! If you'd like to be considered, send a detailed CV and salary requirements).

Here are some Frequently Asked Questions about this new feature:

What qualifies Carpetblogger for this role? It was our idea, stolen from elsewhere. Therefore, we're best qualified.

What topics will you address? A better question is what topics will we NOT address. The Carpetblog/Unaccompanied Lady areas of expertise include -- but are not limited to -- coping with bureaucracy, birth, breastfeeding and child rearing, primates, music, intercultural understanding, cooking, bribing, sex, dating and relationships, cattle, fashion, current affairs, fine dining, developing cultural sensitivity, ethics, importing pork and liquor, languages and Crapistan.

What topics will you not address? Boring topics. If you want travel advice for Turkey, there's this great new service called google. Try it today!

Will question-askers remain anonymous? Only if the benefit of revealing your identity outweighs your desire to not be humiliated.

Do questions have to be from/about Turkey or from Expats? Of course not! We welcome questions from around the world from all types of people.

How can we submit questions?  The world of social media is vast. You can send an SMS, use the contact Carpetblog email link on the blog (but sometimes we forget to check that one), talk to us in the ladies' room at a bar, use Facebook, @Carpetblogger1 or @Unaccompanylady on Twitter, leave it in the comments or use telepathy. It's up to you.

So beat the rush! Send your questions in today. We'll be choosing among the best ones this week!

 

An Open Letter to THY Regarding Your Pre-Flight Safety Video

Sayın THY!

Let us preface this post by pointing out that we criticize because we love. We hope this rant shall not be misinterpreted or in any way affect our imminent accession to the rarefied heights of Elite Plus status.

But, because we have spent that much time on THY flights, we have become initmately familiar with the Horrible Pre-Flight Safey Video featuring players from, informed sources have told us, the team Manchester United. Accordingly, we have opinions.

We recognize that making "clever" flight safety videos is now a "thing" that airlines to do try to get people to pay attention to important information that could save lives. We also acknowledge that people who are not middle-aged American women may be interested in what football players have to say about things. Perhaps we have been missing something important and lifesaving after we clamp down the noise cancelling headphones as soon as the cavorting begins.

 

As someone who frequently defends THY against charges that you sometimes land at the wrong airport, or can't figure out a way to seat a mother and her nine-month old spawn next to each other, or that many of your pilots don't speak English well enough to communicate with ATC, we find your approach to pre-flight safety, which juxtaposes a mildly retarded football player mucking around with a life preserver with a passenger assuming the crash position, a bit troubling.

Now, as a market research professional, we are willing to keep an open mind that your research has shown that your target audience is middle-aged Turkish or Arab men. If so, we believe that employing thinly-veiled homoeroticism to demonstrate the correct way to use an emergency slide borders on genius. We are huge fans of using research findings in counter-intuitive ways. Respect.

However, in our limited sample size, we have found that non-Turkish people can be concerned about the basic competence and quality of THY. Let me reiterate that we do mean "people who are not Carpetblogger." We always assure our friends that we choose THY over Delta or even PIA, on which we are close to achieving status, every time. We argue that THY is the thing that works best in Turkey.

Especially if they aren't up to speed on the latest advancements in Turknology, people sometimes wonder if THY is "safe." For an airline that aspires with the intensity of an 19th century arriviste to be seen as "Globally Yours," establishing passengers' confidence in its basic competence and commitment to safety might be a strategic priority -- more so, even, than cross-branding with famous football teams.

We 3> you, THY. We love your convenient flights to shitty places. We love your new lounge at Ataturk more than our own home. We love how your flight attendants ask us with a straight face if we want Turkish or French wine and how we respond without giggling. We're like an old married couple like that.

But this safety video is really coming between us and making me question our relationship.

Hugs,

Carpetblogger

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carpetblogger Talks About Going Fox Hunting

Carpetblogger recently had the good fortune to spend a few days in rural England with our friends Oliver and Henry. Oliver and Henry live in a village of 300 people called Farthinghoe, which is not far from Hinton-in-the-Hedges. Their stone cottage, which was built around 1635, is called
Butts Close (insert obligatory giggle).  It is next door to Folly Cottage, a name we are going to appropriate for our own apartment.

Oliver and Henry love to foxhunt. Henry’s a barrister so it’s best to avoid a debate with him over the legal nuances of the sport. Brushes are scattered throughout the house and its décor could be described as hunt-chic. Many wine-fueled dinners in Istanbul with Oliver and Henry have concluded with show tunes and a commitment on our part go hunting with them.

It’s a little known fact that a substantial portion of Carpetblogger’s youth was devoted to the study of horsemanship as practiced in rural England, including the arcane practices of its foxhunts, via the British-founded Pony Club. In hindsight, this seems like an odd way to spend one’s teenage years, on par, in terms of context, structure and future usefulness for the average rural American with memorizing the Koran in a madrassah.

Perhaps devoting that time to learning math might have been a more productive use of scarce mental resources. That we can still tie a stock tie correctly (left over right, right over left then crossed) but not make change should be a burden carried by those responsible for our education.

Country social life revolves around the hunt. Accordingly, we ended up at a delightful dinner party in Hinton-in-the-Hedges, in a former parsonage with an underground passage that leads to the village church in one direction and, in the other, to the pub. The hosts and guests included members of the Bicester hunt, their teenaged daughters and the 70-ish year-old hunt announcer. Once we established our credentials as a “B-rated” Pony Clubber* who hunted in the mid-80s with Woodbrook Hunt Club, at Fort Lewis in Tacoma, Washington, our place at the table seemed secure.

Aside from being cold, wet and muddy, the Bicester Hunt, which flows over the ditches and hedges of South Northamptonshire, has little in common with the Woodbrook Hunt, which ducks low-flying C-17s landing at McChord AFB. Still, horse-crazy 17 year old girls are the same everywhere. They like to ride fast over big fences without the respect for their physical integrity they will develop by the time they reach 43. Our lack of respect for our physical integrity at age 17 resulted, the last time we hunted, in a mud-covered visit to the Madigan Army Hospital emergency room. For us, calling up Pony Club-era esoterica from the depths of our DNA (so thorough is the indoctrination, that’s where it is stored) at a dinner party at Hinton-in-the-Hedges was absolutely delightful.

We did feel the need to lecture Oliver on Saturday morning as he prepared for the day’s meet by selecting his flask. “A saddle flask is better because you could break a rib if you fall with one in your jacket,” he explained, while brushing dust off the felt bowler hat Henry planned to wear hunting that day. That simply wouldn’t fly at Valley Green Pony Club (the bowler part. The flask-related safety insight and the dusting would have been embraced).

With an appropriate mount having been sourced, our visit concluded with an even firmer commitment to go hunting, possibly even before this season ends. We’ll to have to find boots, breeches, a jacket, a helmet and some muscles (also, possibly, some balls), before then, however.

Book a room at the Folly Cottage and alert the local equivalent of the Madigan Army Hospital. Carpetblogger's going hunting.

 

*We googled that and would have linked, but clearly the USPC rating system been dumbed down for the current, softer generation.

 

Happy Birthday to Carpetblog

Seven years ago, we woke up and said, "Do you know what we need? One of those new blog things." And unto us a Carpetblog was born. Crapistan rejoiced.

The early Azerbaijan years were stuffed with material, none of which we could write about without losing our job or getting kicked out of the country, so posts are lame. In hindsight, that was a mistake. We consider the Kyiv year Carpetblog's golden era, in which we established ourselves as the wikipedia of slutty dressing. The Istanbul years have had highlights (2008 was a good blogging year), but are characterized more by a long slow decline.

Below, we have selected some of our favorite, but lesser known, posts.

• An early exercise in crowdsourcing before crowdsourcing was cool, Azerisms
• The Shashlyk lifestyle
• Another insurmountable cultural obstacle presented by Turkish class.
• Does Camel Toe have two meanings?
• Deli Komsu and the Yabanci Militia

Do you have a favorite? Put it in the comments. We have no idea what posts people like.

Our new year's resolution is to maintain -- or improve -- our current practice of posting once a month, whether or not we have anything interesting to say.

 

Caretblog Recommends: Istanbul Eats Walking Tours

Frankly, it's not that hard to obtain the Carpetblog stamp of approval. We're not out to diminish our own brand or anything, but really, with a few exceptions taken on moral grounds, we'll shill for almost all of our friends.

Indeed, we have in the past shilled for Istanbul Eats, not just out of affection for its founders, but because it is the best guide to eating in this city. We use it all the time (IE recs got us to try current faves Datli Maya and Mohti) and recommend it to everyone.

We have also always recommended IE's culinary walking tours, even though we had never taken one, or, until very recently, known anyone who had. That's how important our credibility is.

But after dear friends visiting from San Francisco last month raved about the tour and promptly signed up to do a second one, we thought maybe we had been missing out on something important and fun. In fact, we were more than a little embarassed when walking around town with them, sharing all our greatest insights about the mysteries of the city such as the difference between dana and koyun işkembe, they said, "oh yes, our guide Angelis already told us that."

So when Carpetblog's Kosovo Korrespondent suggested we do a Festivus Day tour, led by that Greek Angelis Nannos who really made us look bad to our guests, we said, "well, ok."

Have you ever visited your friend in Istanbul and noticed that she doesn't really know anything about the city and seems to be making shit up, or takes you to the places closest to her apartment? Well, Angelis isn't like that. He's your cool friend in Istanbul who really does know good places in unlikely neighborhoods and loves to show them to you with great enthusiasm. Who knows? Maybe he can be your new friend in Istanbul. Other people seem to like him.

Would you travel across town for a doner? We sure as hell wouldn't, not before visting a hole-in-the-wall döner place in the back streets Küçükpazar (you don't even know where that is, do you?), where the dönerci marinates real lamb meat in onion juice overnight and alternates layers of meat and vegetables. Do you think a pide is just beyaz peynir and sucuk toasted on some dough? Try adding Black Sea magic village butter to the crust at a place in Fatıh that, to some skepticism, claims to be the first Pideci in Istanbul. Do you think Turkish Delight is gross? Well it is, but you might find some that's at least not made of rubber in the back streets of Eminönü. Have you tried kokoreç? After five years in Istanbul, we finally did and it's not as bad as we expected. That white matter at the tip of the knife in the photo? Suet. Yum.

This is just a long way of saying that Carpetblog stands by our endorsement of Istanbul Eats' Culinary Walking Tours and has forgiven Angelis for making us look dumb to our visitors. Also, we know from reliable sources that IE's Meghan gives excellent tours as well, even though we haven't been on hers.

And, as long as we're sharing love, we haven't shilled for Istanbul Personal Shopper in a long time. Like IE's food tours, Kathy takes visitors to parts of the Grand Bazaar people who have lived here for years don't know about. The best part? Your visitors will love the tour and you won't have to go to the Grand Bazaar. Everyone wins!

If we were in the FSU, we would pull out our stamp and stamp our approval on both.

Carpetblogger Ponders Advances in Soviet-Era Technology

While in Tbilisi for the annual post-Soviet Thanksgiving bacchanalia, we ran across something in a friend's apartment building that we have never seen before: a pay elevator.

We are the first to admit that, as a resident of a fourth-floor walk up, we have elevator envy. Envy became self-loathing as we carried 50 lbs of Georgian wine and pork up those stairs last night. We're always in the market for new ideas when it comes to mechanical ascension techniques.

The pay elevator, however, has some pros and cons. Borko, ever the Reagan-era free-marketeer, praised it as a market-oriented solution to the vexing problem of elevator maintenance in buildings where no one is obligated to pay for upkeep of common areas. We agree!

However, this elevator charged 1 Tetri (about one penny) per ride. We're not very good at math, but if a six-floor building has 2-3 apartments on each floor, we're not convinced the economics of the idea work out. We also failed Reagan-era economics so maybe we're missing something.

Furthermore, nothing about the elevator suggested that its upkeep was anyone's priority. Maybe the proceeds from the box funded the upkeep of the elevator repairer's vodka supply.

Perhaps a pay box in the elevator acts as a potential barrier to entry to never-do-wells. But who is more likely to carry around a pocketful of 1 Tetri coins? A never-do-well or Carpetblogger? We would probably walk up four flights of stairs just as often as we do without any elevator at all, if using it was contingent on having a 1 Tetri coin in our pocket.

So, the debate on the pay elevator has yet to be settled. But when we saw it, we said, "finally, we're home." Gone from the FSU for too long.

 

 

Carpetblog Weighs in: Georgian Food in Istanbul at Cafe Euro

You've heard the old saying about dining in Istanbul -- "There's all kinds of cuisine here as long as it's Turkish." Perhaps you've argued that Istanbul is the biggest city in the world without a real Pakistani restaurant. People come to Istanbul for a lot of reasons -- many of them good -- but not for its selection of international food.

So, when we read a FB post by the writer of the lovely Delicious Istanbul blog about Cafe Euro's Georgian food, we got our hopes up, just a little. She appears to be of some FSU provenance -- not sure which, don't want to offend! -- so we viewed her as credible. And, that the restaurant is located in Aksaray -- which is known locally as Devushkastan --suggested that there is a built-in clientele who knows their satsivi from their tkemali.

Georgians are sort of like Soviet Mexicans. They moved around and set up restaurants all over the Soviet Union to serve their hungry workers needing a taste of home. Every FSU resident we've ever met craves the occasional Georgian meal, even if they've never been to Tbilisi. Georgian food, like Georgia, is unlike anything found anywhere else in the world. We have long moaned about the lack of the real thing in Istanbul. Georgia is so close! Why can't you get a Borjomi and a decent khingali here?

After reading DI's post, we put on our devushka boots and gathered up the famous but also charming Rutherford/Tomasetti Partners and plotted a route into the dark heart of Aksaray. Did you know there is a giant bus station right there in the middle of it that serves exclusively the Caucasus, Russia, Romania and Moldova? We had no idea. There must be a lot of workers coming to Turkey from those countries! What sort of work they do here do you think? Globalization is awesome.

And there it was, Cafe Euro, with Georgia's UFO-script and photos of khingali on the outside walls, conferring a legitimacy that could not be faked. We were so excited. We stepped down into its dark bowels and felt like we had stepped into a bus station in Batumi. Cheap cafe decor in Turkey is white molded plastic chairs. In Georgia, and Cafe Euro, it's rickety metal-backed chairs with pleather seats. It's also bleached hair, cigarettes and drunken dancing to Russian pop at 7 pm. We were home.

We have found that the only time we can speak Turkish is when we want to speak another language in which we know 50 words, like Russian. The waitress, who was Georgian, got excited by our efforts and, in violation of traditional food service norms in her homeland, became super friendly and helpful. Sadly, 7 pm is not the hour to go if you want lobio or khinghali. The only things available were khachapuri (yay!) and kebab (less yay). We speculate that if you want access to the full menu (keeping in mind there is no menu), you need to come when the buses are arriving or departing.

We ordered up some Adjarian (the kind with an egg, and not our favorite, but it will do if a Minghrelian is not available). It was fine but we really wanted khingali, particularly since we had talked it up to the RT Partners, who had never had Georgian before. And there was Efes, not Kazbegi. A real Russian speaker might have been able to rustle up some homemade wine or even some chacha, according to Istanbul Eats (which, consume at your own risk).

Our review: Hopes still high, we're going to go back at a different time. Georgian in Istanbul deserves all the support we can give it.

Cafe Euro is at the entrance to the heretofore unknown to Carpetblog giant bus station in Aksaray, on Kucuk Langa Cad.

 

 

Carpetblogger Fails to Keep Simple Commitments

Not long ago, we entered a phase of serious soul-searching. We spent long hours considering the topic, viewing it from all angles and concluding that structural changes in our lifestyle were needed. We saw this as a real opportunity for personal growth.

The question: Why do we own so much crap?

A couple things forced us into this introspective phase: watching a 60 year old guy carrying 20 of our carpets on his back up four flights of stairs in 95 degree heat (he was a professional). Spending a day with the Red State Sibling allocating under-bed and under-couch space to carpets categorized thusly: really like, like and sort of like; and figuring out how to store other assorted crap in an apartment 2/3rds the size of the old one.

The conclusion: Stop. No More Textiles.

This commitment lasted approximately six weeks, buckling under the mildest pressure.

Last week, we took the scenic route back to Ubud from eastern Bali on our scooter, enjoying the sunrise and the fishing villages along a seaside road that washes out every monsoon. On the lee side of Mt. Agung, the area is scrubbly, overgrazed by Bali cattle and bumpy with black lava rock. Farmers grow coffee and boatmakers carve from tree trunks the solid but narrow hulls of jukung boats used for fishing. It’s not the Bali of rice terraces and coconut palms.  It’s very poor and not a lot goes on.

After rounding a curve, we screeched to a halt in front of a shiny new bungalow with a large sign. “The Karya Sary Warna Alam Weaving Cooperative of East Sarya.” Whhaaaaat?

A young woman bounded out of the side yard and unlocked the door to the shop. It was 7:15 am. The collection was small, but stock of good quality. Her English wasn’t great so we couldn’t tell where the cooperative gets the cotton, what the pieces are called or used for or who does the weaving, but the colors were natural and she suggested locally sourced. She also, obviously, couldn’t explain who the hell comes to her lovely little shop in the middle of nowhere.

We selected a few fairly priced items.

Then we remembered: We had no cash -- like, just barely enough for scooter petrol and breakfast. Credit cards were out of the question, as they usually are in rural areas. The nearest ATM was a 50km round trip and not an option.

Then we remembered that other thing: Our commitment.

“Nope, sorry. No cash. Can’t buy,” we told the obviously-disappointed shopgal. We patted ourselves on the back for keeping our commitment to self-discipline and restraint. We briefly wondered if we would regret not buying a rare textile from its source but did not dwell because we had no money.

So today, we decided to go for a walk, just to see what was going on at Threads of Life, our favorite Ubud textile NGO. The gals there are chatty and the shop smells like the spices used to keep bugs away from the threads. Maybe they would be offering another class soon. That would be fun!

Hey, what's that in the window? A sample from The Karya Sary Warna Alam Weaving Cooperative of East Sarya?  Shut up! It’s one of the cooperatives supported by Threads of Life. We explained that we had visited it and the TOL gals there were happy to tell us more about it and its pieces, which are called Rangrang (which means "space" in Balinese and refers, it seems, to a sort of slit weave used) and are used to hold up/cover boobs. They gave us an informative DVD with more information about the cooperative.

 

Yah, of course we bought one. Could we let this Rangrang be the only of the three unique types of textiles produced on Bali that we don’t own, simply because of some dumb decision made under duress? That would be silly and shortsighted, especially since it will look lovely on the Ikea bookshelf.

Carpetblogger Gets Shook Down by the Ubud Fuzz

Our primary form of transportation on Bali is a black and white honda called a Scoopy. Last week we rode it more than 100kms each way to the village of Amed on the east coast which was otherwise  inaccessible without your own car (or willingness to spent eight hours on small local transport vans known as bemos).  It is reliable and fun to drive.

At five dollars a day to rent, a scooter is the best transportation investment we've ever made. To obtain one, you go through the onerous paperwork process of giving some guy with five bikes parked in front of his house a $20 deposit, the name of your guesthouse and a vague timeline for when you might return it.

You should wear a helmet, because, well duh, and it's also the law.  But yesterday morning, our helmet was not where we had left it and, accordingly, was not on our head when we got stopped at Ubud's central intersection. Possibly, it had been stolen or borrowed. Because we hoped it was the latter and it would be returned soon, the full force of the law fell on our bare head.

"It is the law, you know, and we are here to enforce the law of Indonesia," the young Fuzz told me. We did not roll our eyes at this statement because we thought deference would get us out of this painlessly.

"And I support rule of law. But my helmet was stolen and I was on my way to get it replaced." (Both of these statements were actually true).

"Well, this is a warning then."

"I feel warned. Thank you." I started to get up.

He smiled. "But you should show me you international drivers' license."

This not being our first time at this rodeo, we said something to the effect of "o no you dint just ask for that." Of course we didn't have this document. No one does.

"O you don't have this?" he said with mock surprise.  "I have no choice but to fine you 500,000 Rupiah (about $60) for your second violation."

"Well, I don't want to pay that."

"How much do you want to pay?"

"How about I pay you 100,000 (about $12)?"

"Ok, that will be fine. It will be justice."

"Can I have a receipt for that?"

"No, you cannot."

"So, you just shook me down. Is this what you're saying?"

"Yes."

Our helmet magically reappeared today. Rule of law still pending.