Roomies!

You may remember in my first post, I talked about how much I hate moving. It is more the transition (finding a place, having things in boxes, etc) than the exploration of a new city part. I do not like uncertainty in my living situation. I went to Cincinnati last weekend with my mom to look at rental properties. I am working with a great relocation agency who is doing all the work for me, since it makes me irritable to troll Craigslist and decipher whether "charming" really means tiny and dirty. I looked at one rental house that looked like the Bates Motel, and another in which the current tenant appeared to have used the floor as a garbage receptacle. I determined a house was way too big for me. And it turns out I'm still kind of scared of going in the basement by myself! I'm 33. I made my mom go down and check out the basement. Sad and embarrassing but true. I (or we more specifically) found a great condo, and would have had everything signed, sealed, and delivered, had my poor organization and intermittent inattention not struck again. DRAT! I woke up in the middle of the night realizing I had made a large and significant mistake on my salary in the wrong direction. Nothing like a nighttime panic attack. I did some deep breathing, and some at home cognitive behavioral therapy (much like the time I almost missed my flight on the way to take my licensing exam, did not work)! I'm hoping it all gets worked out by Monday and the condo owners are willing to rent to me. Otherwise perhaps I will live in my childhood bedroom in Cleveland and commute. My mom did say she felt like my roommate while we were looking at places. I hope they'll let me have my own shelf in the refrigerator and give me the good chores on the chore wheel. I am a doctor now, after all.

Barthelona

I just came back from a wine tasting class at the Tria Fermentation School. I learned a lot about Spanish white wines (and two ciders and a red wine), was good at tasting instead of drinking (a honed skill), and ate some delicious snacks. Above and beyond that though, I had a heartbreaking feeling of sadness and/or regret when I wasn't distracted by the dreamy wine guy instructor. Tria is one of the places I will miss most (and intimately intertwined the friends with whom I have spent time there). I was sad because Tria is unique and does not exist outside of Philadelphia (although I'm sure approximations are floating around) and regretful because I should have attended classes earlier. They are GREAT! Such fun and knowledgeable winos. So, my public service announcement: Tempus fugit! Carpe diem! Seize the day! (I got my Latin confused and it only seems fair I should not fool you and pretend I said carpe diem first, and tempus fugit isn't totally off base). Do the things you keep putting off until later, because you never know when you might have to move to Cincinnati and change all your plans.

I recommend:
Txakoli Bizkaiko, Gurrutxaga '10
Txakoli Getariako, Ameztoi, '10
Rebisaca, Do Ferreiro, '09
Albarino, Do Ferreiro, '09
Godello, A Coroa, '10
Txakoli Tinto Bizkaiko, Gorrondona, '09

P.S. I am still homeless in Cincinnati! Someone find me a damn house/condo/apartment!

Göksel that was a good time!

The Turkish bagels were gross- they went in the garbage. So so disappointed. I spent an hour on Facebook at work trying to find the concierge at our hotel so he could tell me the recipe. It turns out that Göksel is a super popular Turkish name. Who knew. So I made myself feel better by making chocolate chip cookies stuffed with Rolos. It is only because of intense will power that I did not eat all of them at one time. They are deliciousness in a cookie.

I'm going to Cincinnati tomorrow to look at rental houses and/or apartments. I'm both excited and feeling sad as my time in Philly grows shorter and shorter. There is a big upside to Ohio though. You can buy both buy wine at the grocery store and have it shipped to your home. It's the small things.

Turkish bagels

One of the best parts of vacation, other than the immeasurable delight of time with my family and seeing ancient cultural wonders, were the hotel breakfasts. I'm always curious about what other people eat for breakfast, and also what hotels think foreigners eat for breakfast. All of our hotels had an interesting mix of local treats such as cheese and strange looking sliced meat and more predictable Continental fare like chocolate croissants. Those are another post. My life is dark and dreary without them. Our hotel in Istanbul served these sesame covered bagely looking type things. My life will never be the same. Simit, as I now know they are called, are like a cross between a bagel and a croissant. They can go sweet with a little jam or Nutella, or savory with a little cheese. They're sold on the street piled high on carts like pretzels in NYC (I neglected to snap a photo) and are apparently the ubiquitous Turkish treat. I threw carb caution to the wind at breakfast and ate them by the plateful. Oh I'll just have one, and then maybe another, and another. I bemoaned the lack of my beloved Turkish bagels the whole time we were in Greece. So of course, I get home and I start googling to find the recipe because I must hold on to this tiny vestige of vacation. The dough is rising as we speak. I'll post the recipe if it works. Otherwise I will be searching for recipes that include sesame seeds because I am currently in possession of a one pound bag of them.

A funny fitting sweater

I just spent two weeks on vacation, which was completely delicious. The vacation post will arrive when the jet lag has settled and I can put my thoughts and photos together. For now, it feels so strange to be back for two reasons. The first, obviously, is that I am no longer on vacation. The second, is that in less than two months, I am moving. I am at that weird point in a transition where I feel unsettled and that I don't really belong in Philly anymore. I'm going to ponder over that for a while. However, it is also possible that I feel this way because this was not my view when I awoke this morning:

Who wants to make me a Continental breakfast buffet and provide me with a towel and a beach chair?

European Vacation

It is hard to blog on vacation! I have so much to report on, but internet has generally been spotty (I'm out on our porch in the bright sunlight with a towel over my head and the computer in an attempt to get a clear signal). Since my last post, in short:
a visit to Cemberlitas Hamam, a Turkish bath (google it, and substitute older, hairier, naked ladies for the pictures they use as advertising), the Blue Mosque, a brief trip to Asia, Hagia Sophia, a ride face down on the floor of a taxi because it is illegal for taxis in Istanbul to carry more than 4 passengers, many accidentally ordered dishes with unrecognizable ingredients, always labeled "Sultan's favorite." The sultan and I do not have the same food tastes, sadly. An amazing four days on Santorini, in a hotel that requires 200 steps up to get to the town square. It's good, it helps burn off the daily baklava. A donkey ride up some stairs to get to Oia (eek!), a hike up the side of a volcano at noon (hot), a lovely but crowded sunset in Oia, a visit to a black sand beach (they're really pebbles), lots of Greek salad (no lettuce, so much better), a hydrofoil ride from Santorini to Paros in high winds (vomtown), and now here I am in Nauossa (Paros) on a deck typing a blog post. Pictures and updates to follow when I get home. Keep your fingers crossed that whole debt crisis/IMF mess in Athens doesn't impact my ability to continue to eat feta cheese.

Constantinople

Istanbul is quıte an entertaining city so far! I am blogging from our hotel lobby, and it is ınterestıng to see what keys come up as I touch type that I am going to have to go back and fix later so this post doesn,t end up looking like a bunch of symbols. Which it might anyway. I can,t figure out the apostrophe either way. We have seen all of the important sıghts/sites and some others that were entertaining but not in the guide books, including a ride in a taxi where I had to hide because it is illegal to have more than four people per car... I think my favorite so far was the Turkish ice cream vendor who put on a big show serving the ice cream (think Hibachi grill style), flung a blob in my hair,and still charged us the tourist rate, which was about four times the rate he charged the Turkish girl who arrived next. Ah to be an American abroad.