Monday, May 19, 2014

Kebab Quest Part 7: Counter Culture Kebabs

To round out 10 epic days in Turkey, it's back to Istanbul for 24 hours before the final boarding call to JFK. Only this time around instead of exploring the Queen's mysterious past it's all about her frenetic future.  The neighborhood of Beyoğlu is only a tram stop from the old city, but the real distance is measured in millennia. Here, in the narrow, graffiti-covered alleys of a once ignored corner of the city the youth of a nation are forging their own destiny. It seems fitting that the great thoroughfare of Istiklal Caddesi runs straight through the heart of Beyoğlu and ends at Taksim Square, the battlefield where the dreams and fears of a restless generation collide in the summer heat.
 

On the graffiti-to-street art meter Beyoğlu scores firmly at the street art end of the scale. That means instead of being mugged you're likely to offered a mug of a microbrew craft IPA.


When the plate doubles as a table top you know you've come to a good spot.



Urban Dictionary defines hipsters as often having "degrees in maths and sciences, which also require certain creative analytical thinking abilities." That's a good thing, because you need all that analytical ability to solve for the maximum shots-per-lira ratio, subject to the constraint that you must be able to stagger home in time to make your flight.
 


That's a big kebab for a little girl.
 

Istiklal Caddesi is an aorta of energy, a path to destiny for the young, the impassioned, the brave, the foolhardy, and the wearer of skinny jeans.


If one had to pick a single image to sum of a country of contrasts, this would be it.


Just one of hundreds of hipster cafes that have sprouted out of the decay of abandoned houses and decrepit warehouses. We also have here one of the hundreds of impostor hipsters; you can tell by the fact that he doesn't know his Balzac from his Proust. Oh, and he has, like, a job.



Gentrification is like the steady drip of a Swedish pour over.



All this hipsterism is making my jeans feel way too loose. Don't worry, there's a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie with a bespoke blend of 85.261% dark, organic cocoa - sourced from a microfinanced, women-owned farm on the shady slopes of a tropical volcano of course - that should solve that problem.



Kung Fu Zhu.



Hoodies are hip, until society realizes that Big Tech is just as evil as Big Banking or Big Oil.


As if there was any doubt that this is the cool side of the block.



Cochine, hidden down a narrow alley behind an unmarked door, is a Vietnamese restaurant and speakeasy run by a Kiwi chef. Go figure.



A welcome respite from endless kebabs. And the Earl Grey Martini is like discovering that your boring English aunt's afternoon tea party is really a Tinder-fueled orgy.
 


There are parties, and then there's Beyoğlu on a Saturday night. Who needs a Boom Boom Room when you've got a Boom Boom Street?
 

Morning dawns a little blurry after a wild night, but there's still a few hours till airport time so let's get cracking slackers, there's boxes still to be ticked.


The dance floor of an old Dervish House. To get closer to their deity, the Dervish whirl themselves into a trance-like state in a spinning dance that can last for hours. Team J00ster doesn't need to do any spinning to enter a trance, last night took care of that.


Yep, definitely hipster territory. If you've shaved your facial hair in the last 90 days you're not welcome. If you did the shaving with a straight razor though, you may get a one-off exemption.




One lira for fresh juice? Now there's something that the hipster premium hasn't hit yet.



Galata Tower offers stunning views over the skyline of one of the world's great cities. The towers of midtown Manhattan and the glass canyon of Hong Kong harbor have a worthy peer.
 




So many galleries, coffee shops, and vintage boutiques and so little time. Rock's ironclad rule that one must be at the airport a minimum of three hours early is starting to be sorely challenged.
 


Hipsterfication happens one door and one pair of jeans at a time.



Looks like the Queen is telling us it's time to head home. Last call for TK 11 with direct service to New York John F. Kennedy International.


Kebab Quest Part 6: Club Med

After a whirlwind trip through the dusty back country it's time to unwind on the Mediterranean coast. The old town of Kaleici has slowly been engulfed by the metropolis of Antalya, but fortunately its old fortress walls have keep the encroaching modernity at bay, a time capsule where the fishing boats still set sail every dawn just have they have for centuries. 
 

Hands off lads, this is a conservative country. Actually it's quite alright, the guys here are very touchy-feely, often holding hands when walking. Seems the section in the Bro Code on thou-shalt-not-touch-unless-it's-a-manly-chest-bump doesn't apply here.


The towering fortress walls have guarded the harbor jealously for centuries. That's wise, can't have marauding Trojans stealing our grilled fish sandwiches.



Sunset over the Mediterranean looks even better with an ice cold Efes at hand and a heaping bowl of seafood linguine.



In the interior once the sun goes down and the last call to prayer fades across the cool evening breeze things pretty much shut down for the night. Here in the city, if one ventures outside the old town walls, there's plenty of action. In fact, there's barely a headscarf to be seen and every coffee shop is pumping out the latest American pop hits. 
 


Team J00ster warming up for... an early bedtime.


Exclusive look into a real life harem.


Q: What's the opposite of a harem? A: Sausage fest.


Isn't that Gandalf's chair?


Out and about in Kaleici. Sounds suspiciously like somewhere in Game of Thrones. Stand by for blood and gore.
 


It's always easy to get your bearings in a Turkish town, just look for the minarets and you'll find the town center.



Life within the old city walls moves as the pace it always has, namely glacial. There's ample time to lounge around over a coffee for hours. Manhattan this is not. Heck, it's not even Palmerston North, which is saying something.
 



The old fortress walls once cast a watchful shadow over the vital harbor at their base. Now they're the perfect place for taking in the glass smooth Mediterranean on a stunning spring day.



Looks like the day's catch is on its way in. The odds favor grilled fish for dinner tonight.



The secluded beach at the foot of the city walls looks tempting. File that away for this afternoon when the peak heat demands a cooling dip.


But first, a pirate cruise up the coast to plunder some bounty. Me hearties, I hear there's a galleon laden with bitcoins under full sail just over the horizon. Nothing aids a pirate's way of life like an untraceable cryptocurrency.



Stand by to unfurl the Jolly Roger.
 

Devan gets ready to repeal boarders.


Nice spot for a day of fishing. The falls keep one cool and the fish are plentiful. Hopefully some of that bounty makes in back to town in time for the evening grill up.
 


Back on dry land after an afternoon terrorizing the high seas. Alas by the time the bitcoins were secured and the remains of the galleon's charred timbers where drifting down into Davy Jones' Locker, the treasure had lost 90% of its value. Maybe that whole Federal Reserve thing isn't such a bad idea after all.



Sorry folks, I know when most of you picture a Mediterranean beach you're imagining French babes barely covered by flimsy strips of Louis Vuitton, if they bother with clothes at all.



Why hello ladies, would you like a private tour of my superyacht? It's the new eco-friendly model, that's why it's only got a pair of oars instead of dual RK280 diesels weighing in at a combined 12,000 horsepower. Anyway, you think a body like this comes from sipping champagne in a wood paneled captain's suite with chrome highlighting?



So this is why most people go on vacation to sit on a beach instead of spending all day slogging along a scorching trail or dragging oneself to the next 5am flight. Believe it or not, it's kind of relaxing. Who would have thought.




The Amigos are on the prowl. Look out ladies, they've got a couple hours and three lite beers up their sleeves before their 11pm bedtime. The night is but young. Unfortunately they're anything but.


Club Ally is one of those outdoor super clubs that are all the rage on the Mediterranean coast. Unfortunately, being a Muslim country it's a bit of a sausage fest. There's a reason those draconian bouncers in the Meatpacking District manage the girls-to-guys ratio.




Avert your eyes now Mr. Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, it's quite possible your country isn't quite as conservative as you think.



A nice end to a blog post, so to speak.