This short video sums up our time exploring the Turkish region’s fantastical topography via hot air balloon, hikes, and a descent into an underground city.
This year, I’ll be missing out on a Minnesota classic: The State Fair. But fortunately, I’ll be surrounded by enough similarities over here to help recreate this quintessentially Midwestern experience on the other side of the globe.
After reviewing ~800 video clips and spending countless hours editing a fraction of those, the Istanbul highlight reel is finally here!
Here’s an ultra-condensed list of our most favorite experiences in this fascinating, vibrant, chaotic city that we called home for three months.
Oh, the things I do for you readers. Here, I share the highlights of my bold quest.
Death, being a sneaky bastard, does not always cooperate with princes, kings, and emperors, and in the age when medicine included things like medical astrology and bloodletting, and eschewed things like basic hygiene, this was especially true. The reductionist could make a surprisingly cogent argument for accidents of birth and death being responsible for empires.
So if it’s just a little Byzantine church, what’s the big deal? That will become abundantly clear inside, when you’re greeted by wondrous art: the kind of art that makes you understand what all the fuss is about art; the kind of art that makes you forget to close your mouth when you stare. The best kind of art.
It has been brought to my attention by some good friends who are visiting us that we haven’t updated the blog in something like a month. Turns out this is true. This is also terrible. We are, in fact, still here. “Here” is currently different, though. Our visa ran out, so we left Turkey. Our […]
Honestly, Turks are a lovely people as a whole, but like any large group, there are some unwanted elements. In Turkey they usually fall into the category of aggressive salesmen. Granted, some of this is my own fault, given how non-confrontational I am. When Minnesota nice meets “let me take you to my cousin’s carpet shop,” painful awkwardness has a tendency to ensue.
This was more like entering the rugby scrum that Turks call a “queue,” crushing your way through the lines of riot police standing next to the armored troop transport toward the five small doors used to admit thousands of fans, going through the first cattle chute, getting frisked, heading to the second cattle chute, getting frisked again, and finally giving your ticket to the ticket taker. Allow me an understatement. This was quite unpleasant.