Istanbul

Last week Carlitos and I spent a few days in Istanbul. Although the weather was terrible, cold and rainy, just like Delft, the city was amazing.

The first thing we did, once we arrived, was go to the baths. Mom had recommended, Cagaloglu Hamami, where she had visited a few years back, which was also noted in the book "1000 Places to See Before You Die." While I have to admit that I own the book, though interesting, I find it a bit pretentious. At the baths, the books logo was plastered everywhere on everything. I found it very sad that such a beautiful and historic bath now relies solely on that book for marketing. It seemed completely unnecessary, for based on the quality of my bath I would assume that word of mouth would be sufficient.

I was first lead into a changing room and given a high school locker room size towel (maybe slightly bigger and definitely softer) to cover myself. Wooden sandals were also provided. I was then taken to the bath. It was a beautiful columned room with marble floors, dozens of faucets and sinks along the walls, and a foot high platform in the center. I was brought to a warm basin full of flowing water and with a quick flick of the wrist my guide/massuse had removed my towel and instructed me to "wash!"

I spent about 20 minutes just pouring water over myself until I was instructed back and laid on the marble slab for a scrubbing. I was scrubbed within an inch of my life. As a friend of mine has said, "You go in with a tan and come out without one." A bit more washing followed. Then was the massage. It was so relaxing that I almost fell asleep. Then another rinse. Finally I was soaped up, my hair was washed, I was rinsed off again. By that time I was absolutely exhausted and could not do anything but sit and sip tea in the beautiful entrance hall until I could gather the strength to meet Carlitos on the men's side (women were allowed to be in the men's entrance area but men were not allowed in the women's).

Carlitos' experience was a bit different. Before we went to the baths he got a shave. He seemed a bit apprehensive at first, questioning the barber on his experience (25 years) when he saw the straight razor. The barber was quite thorough. After the shave he brought out what looked like a big cotton swab that the then set alight and used to burn off excess ear hairs! After that I went off to my bath and he went off to his, but Carlitos said that his massage was not as thorough and paid a bit extra for a second one and that his whole experience was not quite as long as mine and became a bit anxious having to wait for me for almost an hour. But on the whole we both enjoyed the experience.

The rest of the holiday was spent seeing the big sites and trying not to buy a carpet. The first site was the Topkapi Palace. This was where the sultans lived for hundreds of years. In honor of Bin, our first stop was a tour of the harem, the former home of the sultans' many concubines and children. The rest of the palace was full of small museums and treasures. Then to the Aya Sophia, a church built by Emperor Justinian that was used for almost thousand years before being transformed into a mosque for the next five hundred years, and is now is a museum. It's a mammoth structure. Across the plaza was the Blue Mosque, which was just as beautiful, but a bit more slender. We also spent some time at the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Bazaar. As many of you know, I hate shopping. I hate looking and looking for something that may not be perfect and is probably overpriced. I do like spending money, but that is completely different than the act of shopping.

At the Grand Bazaar everyone was trying to sell us a carpet. The whole ceremony is quite interesting. If you even glance at carpet you will be invited into the shop. You enter reluctantly, and take a seat, trying not to look at anything for too long. You are asked if you want tea, and when the response is yes, the assistant is sent out to fine a tea boy wandering about the market. Then the carpets begin to be unrolled and piled, one on top of the other. First you narrow down the size, then the style, then the colors. Finally you have a rug that you like, not necessarily love, but like. And the negotiations start. They say a number, you say a number, you think it's too high, the price is reduced a little, you say you are a poor student, the price is reduced a bit more, you say you need to think about it, the priced is cut by a bit, you say that you need to go to the bank, and suddenly the price is a bit less. Then you take their card and say you will return. And you don't.

I actually saw one carpet I liked. It was cream and light blue and made of silk, about five feet wide and eight feet long. It would have probably cost almost the five figures (in dollars). I am glad that I did not start the negotiations on that one...

Photos will be posted later, maybe a few more stories too. But not today, I need to pack.

The Visa Raj

I'm going to India during the winter holiday. One of my best friends from IHE, Bin, has returned home and I shall visit him. I need a visa for India. Apparently everyone needs a visa for India. I know this because I googled it. I also found the application online, as well as the address and list of fees. It should be easy. But, of course, it is not.

Giorgia came with me to Den Haag. She had some documents of Bin's that needed to be certified by the Dutch foreign office, as well as the Indian Embassy. We left Delft at 9AM. The foreign office was simple, very Dutch. An orderly line, a simple fee schedule, and done in 10 minutes. Then we walked to the Indian Embassy. Once we found it we followed the signs and arrow that read "Passports and Visas" to a small basement office. There, I was informed that, no, in fact they do not process visas there, but that had outsourced it! The Indians are outsourcing now. Anyway, the visa office was down the street, about a 10 minute walk. I left Giorgia at the embassy to get her documents stamped.

I went to the visa service office, took a number, and waited my turn. When I got to the desk and my application had been approved, I was informed that the fee would be €90! But the form says €50? Well, she explained, the normal fee is €50 for the visa, but for Americans it is €75, plus a €15 service fee. I asked why that was not noted, she replied that it was noted online. I disagreed, and said that the form online was the exact same form as in the office that showed both the wrong address and the wrong fee and that if the current information had been accessible online that I would have found it. What other explanation did I have for showing up at the visa office with only €85!

Yes, I was €5 short. I've been waiting on a tuition refund from the institute that is still yet to come and I did not take out extra cash besides the €50 that I had assumed the visa would cost. So I had to wait for Giorgia. She was having her own problems with the embassy, they needed document copies and the copy guy wanted to be paid above and beyond the €50 it was costing to get the documents stamped. She said some choice Italian words to him and got the copies made and met me at the visa office minutes before it closed for the morning. Once I paid, I was informed that I had to return at 4:30PM to pick up the visa.

So Giorgia and I spent the afternoon in a cafe. Well, I spent the afternoon there and Giorgia left for a short while to meet her professor at the train station. I have no idea why they decided to meet at the train station in Den Haag, but apparently it was a useful meeting. The afternoon was much more relaxing, Giorgia was able to pick up her documents from the embassy early and I was able to get my visa without anymore hassle. And we were back in Delft by about 5PM. Only 8 hours to get the visa.

Epilogue
I was lucky to get my visa so easily. A Brazilian friend waited all day in Den Haag then found out the misspelled her name in the visa and had to return the next day for the corrected copy. Her boyfriend didn't fare much better, since he will be going to India for a three day conference, plus two weeks of tourism, he was informed that he could not get a tourist visa, but needed a business visa, thus a letter of invitation. I was lucky.

Fire!?

This afternoon I was heading downstairs for futbol. I always take the stairs when we play behind Mina. As I was approaching the second floor it smelled a bit burnt. I began to curse the boys who had a BBQ on the other side of the building the day before. Didn't they clean up? As I approach the first floor I notice the door open, and thought, what assholes have decided to keep the door open on this cold, windy, rainy day...

And then I saw it. On the ground floor. The wall was covered in smoke. The door was charred. The floor was a mess. And we have no idea what happened...

Quick Dutch Lesson

Eight=acht. Night=nacht. Therefore, N8=n+acht=nacht=night.

Last Saturday was Museum N8 in Amsterdam. From 7PM to 2AM, 42 museums were open, each with special events. We had been to something similar in Budapest in June, but we only went to one museum there. This time, we made to about half a dozen, which was quite an accomplishment with a group of ten people.

We started at NEMO, the science museum. It was like being a kid again, playing with bubbles, lifting with levers, and refracting light. Next was the Stedelijk, the contemporary art museum that had an Andy Warhol exhibit going on. Then was a boat ride to Rembrandt's house (which I declined to enter since I had been there with the family the month before, I had a beer instead). The Hortus, the botanical gardens, was next. They had a Persian theme with belly dancers, mint tea, and dates. We walked past the aquarium, and after talking with the doormen, decided to go in (not quite the Shedd, but nice). Our final stop was the Tropenmuseum, aka museum of tropical cultures, where we danced until closing.

Hungry and tired we went for a drink, since we could not find a place with an open kitchen. Gabi, Alejandro, Carlitos and I left the bar at 2:30AM, waited until 3AM for the bus to central station. At the station we saw Julia, Ruben, and Gabriel, who we had left at the bar half an hour ago (the had taken a taxi, much smarter than us) and waited for the 3:42AM to Delft, which only arrived at 4AM, and got to Delft at 5AM. We were all asleep on the train. Great night.