A Neighborhood Walk Goes Continental and Covers 2200 Years

I meant to walk across the little park to the Photography Museum, browse for half an hour, walk briefly around the neighborhood, find a comfortable place for a reading lunch, come back for a jet-lag nap. I got home nine hours later having started not far from the Sea of Marmara, having climbed through the several neighborhoods rising to Sultanahmet, having walked on to Beyazit and through the book bazaar I will surely raid next week to build a library at the community center I mean to sponsor, having walked the grand circle only to end in my neighborhood at the Arch Bistro, a restaurant built into an archway the Romans built.

So, not much in the way of commentary today. Rather, some pictures with captions that may or may not explain enough.

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A Liverwurst Sandwich?

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First Prize: Istanbul Photojournalism Awards

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Grocery Store Inventory

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In the Park: A Fountain with a Prayer Platform

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Two, Please. But Make Mine Bigger

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The Wise Man

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More, Please, Said Dickens the Cat

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A Neighborhood of Wooden Houses

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Afternoon Conversation

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An Exquisite Lunch at the Mitara Cafe and Art

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Iffet and Nazan, Food Artist and Sculptor

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Blue Mosque

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“And Then, Out of Nowhere. . .”

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Waiting for Water to Boil Outside the Hagia Sophia

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Elegant Soap

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Something for Whatever Ails You

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Calling Mother Russia from the International Calling Center

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Neighborhood Cemetery

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The Arch Bistro inside a Roman Archway

2 thoughts on “A Neighborhood Walk Goes Continental and Covers 2200 Years

  1. That picture of the little boy. Sitting at my cube, under fluorescents, I burst into tears. I thought you had taken this! My first thought was, “Oh Dad, what you gotten yourself into?” My second was, “You need to quit your day job and take photographs for a living.” My third was, “I would be the worst photojournalist ever. How do you remain outside the action, looking into those big eyes and NOT get a cool towel and press it to this kid’s face? Snuggle him up and tell him it’s going to be ok?”

    • Dear Girl, The Italian photographer who took that shot made much the same comment. He hates not ‘participating.’ But then his professional ethics kick him and make him do his duty. Meanwhile, during my first day of playing on the floor with a Syrian baby, his mom got him to babble enough to call me Baba. I do not know if his real baba is nearby.

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