The pulled cats of Istanbul

  My landlord Cenk was very emphatic about not leaving the windows open the first time he showed me around my new flat.

"This neighborhood is famous for the cats,"  the building owner told me.  "They are very pold." 

"They are very ... pulled?"

  "No, not pulled. Pold! You know, bold!  They will come right in the window, and piss all over everything.  Is best to open the windows from the top, only a little."

  OK, then:  Rules of the House:  1)  Rent is due the 20th of each month, and 2) Beware of pissing cats climbing in your window.  All the rest is self explanatory.

  It is true that, not unlike Rome, there seem to be cats everywhere in Istanbul.  From the looks of most of them I don't think they belong to anyone in particular.  I can hear them outside my window now, asking to come in to look for a place to, uh, sleep.  They are streetwise cats.  And as Cenk says, they are pulled.

   I'm not complaining, really.  I'll take cats over rats any day, and I can't imagine those stand any chance in this city.  And besides, it's kind of like wildlife.  Like squirrels, only with more attitude.


It looks like milk, and don't drink: it's just for show

  I made my first stupid cultural mistake (of many to come, I'm sure) while shopping for food for the first time at the little grocery store around the corner.  I was tired on first day here, ready to crash and just looking for something recognizable to have for breakfast the next morning.  Nothing complicated, please.  So I head for the cereal aisle.  Or the cereal shelf,  more accurately, as the grocery had about four boxes of cereal from which to chose.  Let's see: museli, something Turkish, something Turkish ... ok, here we go: "Nestle's Gold Flakes."  You can't go wrong with Gold Flakes, right?  They look like Corn Flakes, albeit yes, more gold than corn because they are coated with sugar or some other gold-enhancing substance.  And, according to the undecipherable Turkish on the box, they are packed with ballı mısır gevreği.  Perfect.

  Now needing something to go on the Golden Flakes, I head for the dairy case to look for milk.  I see nothing that says milk (that's süt, in Turkish. This I know).  I see something that looks like milk, in a milk jug, labeled "Ayran."  The brand name, I'm sure, like "Country Fresh" or "Berkeley Farms."  So ring me up a jug of that there Ayran.

  But see, the thing is, ayran is not really milk.  Well, it is milk in the sense that it comes from a cow, and that people drink it for breakfast.  But as I find out later, ayran, if you google it (go ahead, I'll wait)  is best described as "a salty yogurt drink."   Which is fine, if that's what you are expecting. (As in "Here, try this salty yogurt drink." "Yeah, sure.  Why not?")   Quite a surprise otherwise.  And so I'm sure you are wondering, does ayran go well poured over a bowl of sugary Gold Flakes?  The answer is no, it does not. It really does not.

  At least there was no one present to record the look on my face after first spoonful.

  The second stupid, look-like-a-foreigner cultural mistake was made ordering my first Turkish coffee.  (Yes, I know this seems like a pretty simple maneuver, about as complicated as, what, buying milk and cereal?)   I order the coffee in a little restaurant on the Istiklal Ceddesi, Istanbul's main shopping street.  I'm expecting a little cup with a small amount of strong coffee.  Instead the waiter brings out a tray with four items:  a glass of water, two covered brass containers, and a tiny glass of bubbling green liquid with white smoke pouring out of it, like something held by a mad scientist in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.  Under one container was the coffee.  Under the other was a little cube covered with white power.  I looked at the cube, and the coffee.  Then at the water, and then at the green bubbling liquid.  Does the cube go in the coffee?  Does the green bubbling liquid mix in here somewhere?  Should I wait until it stops smoking?  Is the water supposed to delute something? Am I being punked?

  Finally the waiter notices how clueless I am and takes pity on me.  He points to the glass of smoking green liquid.  "Don't drink," he tells me. "Is just for show."  The white powdery cube is a powder- sugar covered gumdrop, a little something to eat with the coffee, apparently.  The glass of water, as it turns out, is just a glass of water.  

   I wonder how many idiot tourists have been poisoned trying to drink the bubbling "Just For Show" dry ice concoction?  I'm sure the guys back in the kitchen look out to watch, and just laugh and laugh and laugh ...