My Marrakesh

Istanbul shopping: and the pleasures of gorging

Oh my.....no wonder they called it Turkish delight.  Shopping in Istanbul was downright delicious.  Chewy, delectable, and highly caloric........

Taste for yourself....

Candy colored suzanis....

Mouthwatering textiles....

Sorbet-hued fez hats.

Gumball jewels fit for a tribal queen (or you and me....)

Ethnic treats which to savor....

Carpets on which to picnic....

Lights....like sparkling bon bons.

Confronted with so much deliciousness, the blogging girl couldn't help but stuff herself.   Yum.    She waddled to the airport, leaving Istanbul many pounds heavier........in overweight luggage that is.........

Turkish Airlines: and you should be ashamed of yourselves

Turkey
Such a beautiful country.
Such lovely people.
Such stunning architecture.
Such delicious food.

A pity, really, that such an amazing, incredible place  has such a shoddy airline.  Turkey deserves so much better than Turkish Airlines.  I have traveled to 68 countries.  I have flown countless airlines.  I am not a particularly demanding person.  But how is it possible to have on one flight (TK 1127 on January 28): mishandled baggage, unacceptably rude and incompetent service (Ms. Asli Tezcan in Istanbul this means you), inedible food, faulty sound equipment, and complete chaos on the plane…..? 

I do hope, yes, I do hope, that I will be lucky enough to go back to Turkey soon.  But it will not be on Turkish Airlines, even if I have to walk….

Istanbul: and body parts still intact

I have fled the intrigue of Bishkek (an important government official recently received a human ear and finger in a gift wrapped box).  And I have hopped a flight to Istanbul for the weekend.  I am shoppıng for Peacock Pavilions wıth my best frıend, Anna, who has flown in from Geneva. 

Oh, pinch me.  Am I allowed to be this happy?

 

PS  This is my 300th post.  I am so grateful that you are still reading:-)

Kyrgyzstan: and fashion faux pas

Ah, that poor blogging girl. She meant well, you see.  So very earnest, with her borrowed black canvas down coat, with her flat, black sheepskin boots, with her practical Isotoner gloves, with her Hayden-Harnett travel bag.  Her hair tucked behind her ears, her little notebook and pencil at the ready. 

How would she have ever known?  How could she have ever known? ....that Bishkek was filled with fashionistas?  Striding gracefully through the snow in their high heeled black boots, in their snug wool trousers, in their fitted velvet jackets, with their artfully arranged scarves, with their chic and gleaming bags.  Their tasteful makeup perfectly applied, their glossy long locks immaculate under pleated wool cloches.

They gazed at her in sympathy.  She could almost hear them thinking:  Why, where ever could she be from in that frumpy clothing? Were those sledding boots she was wearing? Was there potential under those layers of fleece?  Was she here as the "before" candidate for a fashion makeover show?.....

Oh dear. 

Kyrgyzstan Fashion Week. Images by Kyrgyz blogger, Elena Skochilo.

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P.S.  Do click over to darling Lalla Lydia's blog for a touching entry on Jews in Morocco and North Africa.