Finishing in the City Center

(From April 10)

This was really a wonderful weekend. I got to know more urban parts of Cape Town, as well as a sobering historical site and the most delicious brunch place around. I’m falling in love with this city.

My burgeoning love really began to blossom on Saturday morning, when Sally, Jenn, Izzy, Savannah, and I hitched an Uber over to the Old Biscuit Mill. We’d been told that it’s a sort of food market, and I was expecting a farmer’s market sort of thing with tons of fresh veggies and fruit straight from the vine/tree/root. Boy, was I misled. The Mill was more of a hip, bourgeois, Santa Monica-ish outdoor fair market thing that absolutely, 100% hooked me in. Adorable clothes, rugged jewelry, wine by the glass for only $2, and stall after stall of specialty foods filled the converted biscuit mill. It had kept its rugged brick walls but abandoned its roof to embrace the cloudless sky, and the installation of a zany fountain with brass buckets and some cool contraptions encapsulated the alternative vibe. My friends and I wandered through the food stalls, tasting delectable latkes, dim sum, fresh sandwiches (that one was me), fried mac and cheese balls, soft pretzels (me again), glasses of South African wine (me twice), and alcoholic slushies (you guessed it—me).

Izzy and I chatted with the woman working the wine stall, and we learned that she actually hails from Ohio and is at the University of Cape Town for her Master’s degree. The three of us discussed travelling, and I gave her some advice on her upcoming trip to India, when I suddenly realized—I can give people advice on travelling to India. I can give people tidbits on what restaurant to visit, which Airbnb to avoid, which tour guide to recommend, in numerous countries on five continents. Oh my god. I think that was the moment that I realized, for real, the extent of my travels and the incredible way in which the world has truly become my home. I’ve fallen in love with countries and with people and places along the way, and I’m amazed at how lucky I am to have travelled to and lived in so many places in such a short amount of time. Ten countries in under a year… Wow.

BUT enough nostalgia for now—that’ll come in my final post!! I think that our conversation warmed our wine-pourer to us, and she gave us rather generous ‘glasses’ that probably were at least two glasses-worth of wine in each one. Feeling good and buzzed, I flounced over to the clothing market and surprisingly handed over no money for any clothes or jewelry (I did slyly fork over my phone number, but that’s a different story). We finished our time at the Mill with a screwdriver slushie and hopped in an Uber to get to the waterfront.

The waterfront was so beautiful, but we had little time to enjoy it, as we quickly boarded a boat to Robben Island. The ride itself was about forty-five minutes, and I enjoyed both the fresh breeze and ocean views as I read my book and relaxed in the shade. Upon landing, Sally and I realized that about ten other IHP students had booked the same tour as us—so we had a bit of an American student takeover on our tour bus! We first spent forty-five minutes in a large tour bus on the edges of the island, seeing the village and amenities of the former prison, as well as a penguin colony and a really gorgeous panorama of Table Mountain and the coast of Cape Town. The more sobering half of the experience was a tour through the actual prison with a former Robben Island prisoner. Listening to his horrific tales of torture, resistance, and eventual freedom made me both sick with the evil of humanity as well as hopeful for the strength and resilience of humans. It was also so inspiring to listen to a former prisoner. He literally took us into his old cell and recounted his experiences. It’s difficult to comprehend the mental and emotional strength that an individual must possess to give tours of such a painful site to numerous tourists, but I admired it even if I couldn’t fully understand it. I am forever indebted to his fortitude, as it gave me the opportunity to learn about a painful, repressive history.

After such a difficult experience, it was so pleasant to watch the sun’s orange-red glow leak into the gorgeous indigo ocean. I’d so missed watching the sun set on the water, and it makes me even more eager to get back to the Pacific and enjoy the familiar sight from my favorite beaches! I really savored the end of the day, though, and tried to emanate my gratitude for the beauty and history to which I’d been exposed into the open sea air.

That night, I took a “nap” at 8:30 PM that turned into a full night’s sleep, obviously. Really lived it up on my last Saturday in Bo’Kaap!

I woke up early-ish this morning and read Infinite Jest for a few hours before walking down the hill to a little brunch place called Clarke’s for some food and (more importantly) some WiFi. I ended up running into like four or five other IHPer’s, which was just so fun and made me feel really at home in the city. I also enjoyed catching up with the outside world over the most delicious breakfast I’ve had in a really long time. Avocado goat cheese toast and a heaping bowl of oranges, figs, pomegranate seeds, mango, etc. etc. I was overwhelmed by the fresh, healthy, filling scrumptiousness in front of me. I even took a picture for Instagram—that’s how pretty it was!!! It was a fabulous morning.

I trekked back up the hill around 1 PM for an extremely intricate seafood lunch prepared all day by my host mother. The whole family came over to the house to either say goodbye to me and Savannah or simply to enjoy the food—I couldn’t tell which! By 2 PM, though, I was practically fainting from the heat, and I laid in bed sweating and half-heartedly fanning myself with a bookmark as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

At 5:30, Savannah and I said our goodbyes to our host mother (our host father had left long before to head to the beach) and hightailed it down to the bus waiting to transport us to our next and final homestay destination—Langa.

A few words about the little information I know so far about Langa. Langa is the oldest and the smallest black township in Cape Town. Back during apartheid, racial segregation of housing led to the displacement of millions of non-white South Africans, and townships were created to house these men, women, and children outside of city centers. Though apartheid is legally over, its legacy as far as spatial segregation lives on in that numerous families have continued to reside in their designated townships. Langa has a bad reputation in the city. When conversing with Cape Townians in the city center, they’d always get a rather horrified, worried look on their faces when we informed them of our homestay. We’d reassure them that we’d be with homestay families and that we’d been well-versed in necessary measures, and they’d resignedly but still anxiously impart us with the well-meaning advice of “Stay safe.”

All of this build-up led to a bit of anxiety as we rode in the bus to the township. We turned left off of the freeway into the neighborhood, and I scanned the streets incessantly, hoping to intake all of the visual information that I could. Little kids ran along the sidewalks and played games, stray dogs (that looked nice and well-fed!) nosed through grass on empty lots, and numerous city centers brightly and proudly proclaimed services. We pulled into Lovelife Center, the location of our classes for the next two weeks. We were ushered into a main room with chairs and drums and were treated to an uplifting, hand-clapping, smile-inducing musical performance with traditional South African and Zimbabwean instruments. It was truly so fun and joyful and alleviated a lot of my worries about Langa (as I’m sure it was meant to).

I also realized a few things about my community while sitting there in that room as it reverberated with music and good-natured laughs. First of all, thank god for Jenn. I think we exchanged like 10 words over the span of an hour and still managed to communicate five worries, three secrets, numerous inside jokes, and summer plans through finishing each other’s sentences, communicative looks, and small nudges. She’s one of the handful of lifelong friends that I’ve made on this program. And as I looked around the room, at the faces of about half of my peers, I felt so warm and fuzzy and excited to enjoy these last few weeks of travelling and decades of memories with them. The other half… It was strange. I’d spent the same amount of time in classes with them and had afforded them the same opportunities to befriend as I had the other men and women with whom I feel so close. And yet… I felt, if not outright dislike, at least a sort of ambivalence toward them. And guess what—I think that’s okay. I think that’s good. I’m glad I haven’t just allowed myself to follow the sway of noncommittal friendliness and instead really sought out individuals with whom I can laugh and enjoy myself and feel comfortable and candid. I think that the strength of my feelings (both positive and negative) are signs that I’m asserting myself in the right way and that I’m finding the right people with whom to surround myself. Yay Aubs!

Dorothy (my new homestay partner) and I followed our homestay mom and her granddaughter back to the house around 7 PM, following the conclusion of the welcome ceremony. I about passed out carrying my gigantic body bag through the streets of Langa, and my hips were literally aching by the time we breathlessly pushed through the door of the house. We quickly set our stuff in our rooms, then enjoyed a fantastic dinner with the aforementioned two family members and our home stay sister while watching “Our Perfect Wedding.” I already love having Dorothy as a home stay partner, because she’s so kindly straightforward and talkative and interesting that she engages our homestay family while I can sit and listen and try to get over my intial shyness. She is also fab to talk to, and we have a similar love for books, so I think that there will be many a silent nights of just reading in our room.

I have some initial feelings about Langa that I could share, but I’d rather give it at least a full day before I make any judgments, either good or bad or what have you. It’d be too weird to make any statements about a neighborhood when I’ve been here less than four hours and not even in daylight!
So, I bid you adieu, and I hope you had as wonderful a weekend as I did!

Much love,
Aubrey

A Day for Me

(From April 5)

A rough start to the week—but a good one, academically, intellectually, consumer-wise. I have a feeling this will be a shorter blog post, as I’m feeling slightly less inspired and a little less willing to engage with my thoughts than usual.

Yesterday was a regular old Monday. Hours of class and presentation, including an extraordinary presentation by my IHP and Harvard peer, Samantha. I felt like I was learning a lot, my mind was incredibly intellectually stimulated, and I was pretty self-satisfied with my ability to stay mindfully engaged the whole day, even though it took a lot of effort. I visited the Bo’Kaap Museum with Sally after class, a museum dedicated to the evolution of the neighborhood in which we are residing for the remainder of this week. It wasn’t quite what I expected, but I still learned a bit and met a native of New Orleans!

I rested in the house for the remainder of the night, doing homework, reading my book, and watching Shonda Rhimes’s wonderful lineup.

Today involved a really difficult lineup of classes and discussion that left me feeling frustrated, angsty, and isolated. Luckily, I have a friend like Caitlin, with whom I can relax and laugh and simply be without worrying about judgment or sadness. She assisted me as I engaged in some retail therapy at the South African Forever 21 and a nearby market. We also went to a local souvenir shop for some postcards and a liquor store for some wine, which we’d drink during our next experience.

Along with Super Sally, we drove up to the top of Signal Hill, the hill which we visited on the first day of our program. We settled in around an hour before actual sunset and discussed important and intriguing parts of our lives and our experiences. I simply loved enjoying the view, the moment of reflection, the delicious South African wine, the crispness with two people whom I love, appreciate, and respect so deeply. It was wonderful.

Tonight, I may be heading out on the town in order to enjoy Cape Town’s nightlife before retreating into the periphery of Langa township, which is far and isolated from the center of the city. When I told my host mom that I was planning on going out, she literally exclaimed, “finally!!!” This coming from a devout Muslim who abstains completely from alcohol. This makes me think that it really is about time I venture out of my bubble.

So, though there are many things to discuss and think about and reflect upon, I’m giving myself the night off. I’m going to relax and enjoy myself and be happy, because I’ve been wearing myself down, focusing so closely and stressing myself quite unnecessarily. SO tonight is all about Aubs—and I can’t wait!

With love,

Aubrey Noelle

Cheers to the Weekend

How do I even begin to encompass and describe the disparity between my past three days here in Sao Paulo? From informal housing sites, to a Top 40 night club, to a Portuguese SoulCycle, these 72 hours have allowed me to explore facets of the city that I'd never before seen.

Thursday seems like years ago, My friends and I have found that certain class days--specifically, the ones that involve nine hours of class and five different lectures, can bring us to the brink of sleep.

Lecturer: "As we have discussed in the past ten classes, colonialism began in the 15th century"

Seriously, even a history concentrator can only take so much repetition. So, in order to keep our minds sharp and our wandering thoughts corralled, a few of my friends and I have begun Sudoku races. We create Sudoku charts in our notebooks, copy down a few puzzles, and compete to finish first. Doing this actually really helps me pay attention, as I'm occupying my logical/number side of the brain (which is sorely underused tbh) while keeping my creative, imaginative side open for the issues and crises of Sao Paulo.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

We spent the latter half of Thursday at a fascinating apartment complex that is currently developing in Sao Paulo. It'd been a really long day, though, and I found the dimmed lights and comfy temperature of the presentation room quite lulling. At one point, we had to wake up our drowsing teacher. Slightly hilarious. But the presenter was really interesting, and I enjoyed inquiring about how his work relates to the recent history and economy of Sao Paulo. I so love being immersed in this city.

Later that afternoon/night, I went with a few friends to a bar in the a nearby neighborhood. We chatted loudly and cackled rambunctiously, and we spoke with abandon because nobody could understand us!!!!

Them: ^

Us: Good.

On Friday, I started the day with an hour-long trip outside the city center to an informal housing unit built up over the last few years. Basically, this community is constituted of families and individuals that would be homeless but have squatted on uninhabited government land and constructed homes from wood, cardboard, and other temporary materials. Many have improved and fortified their structures over the past few years and are now gaining formal status from the government.

Unlike individuals that I met in similar situations in India, the people in these locations expressed profound anger. They did not want to live in this location nor in these situations; they were desperate, and these informal homes were their last resort. "All we ask for," one inhabitant expressed, "is dignified living."

I found myself inspired, though, and awed by the fortitude, energy, and determination of these individuals. Despite working long hours during the week, they used the weekends to lay pipes and sewage systems; build up their own homes; and help others in the community construct. Even as we spoke, wrapping up our discussion, we watched two men laying the framework for a new home. I was astounded.

I was bothered too, though, by my reactions to this community. I felt hopeful, I felt myself being inspired instead of angered by the conditions, and I did not feel bad. This is completely different than my emotions in India. Upon seeing slums, I was so frustrated and almost physically sickened. Brazilian slums have not affected me in the same manner at all.

I'm scared by this change in my perception of subpar living conditions. Is it because I am so much happier in Brazil that I'm subconsciously donning rose-colored glasses in looking even at poverty and injustice? Is it that I'm getting desensitized to these issues? I'm nervous by the fickleness of my judgment and my inability to critically analyze the urban problems with which I'm being presented. 

I attempted to grapple with these problems but found myself swept up in the excitement of another fun weekend--guilt burgeoned in me with this swift and callous transition, but my long week required some mental and emotional distraction. So, after a fab haircut, Izzy joined my host family for dinner and was wowed by the unbelievable beef/fried dough Brazilian dish called "pastels." These little meat pockets were effing delicious, and I couldn't stop exclaiming my delight even with my mouth stuffed. I think my host mom loves me because if I'm not praising her cooking, I'm fawning over her granddaughter. Flattery is my specialty.

After dinner, a great roar of cheering swelled outside the window. I ran to listen to the second political expression since my arrival. Brazil's last president, Lula, was arrested to the delight and vindication of my numbers. Clapping, shouts of joy, and whistling filled the air.

me tryna absorb what is happening

People here are just unbelievably politically engaged. I think it's because of how young Brazil's democracy is--its current system of electoral, free government began in 1989. Think of how invested Americans were in every election and political happening back in the early 1800's.

Oh... only I'm familiar with the investment of Americans in politics in the early 1800's? 

But hey, maybe you'll reconsider my nerd status when you learn that I went out to a club last night!!! WOW!!! Aubrey went out!!!!

Even though the whole time I was thinking--

I more or less suppressed my social anxiety/nervousness/exhaustion and really ended up enjoying myself. Dancing with Izzy and Sally was the highlight of my night--I mean, besides our 3:00 AM McDonald's run, of course.

This morning, we woke up for what was one of the most fun and rockin' days I've had on this program. Sally, Izzy, Jenn, and I scoured an antiques market and nearby boutiques for some gifts and finds. I did so well with my shopping discoveries... So well in fact that I'm looking at my bank account like

That can't be right... oh my god, it is.

But omg, I have gotten to that weird, mature age at which I like buying gifts for other people more than I like shopping for myself??? Am I... an adult???

Spoiler alert, I bought three scoops of gelato and ate the entire thing too fast tonight and got a stomach ache, so no, I'm not nearly an adult.

After shopping, we walked to the Brazilian version of SoulCycle called Velocity. Velocity and SoulCycle are establishments at which you have an instructor guiding you through a stationary bike class with super awesome music and rave-y lights. I actually got embarrassingly into it and may not be a member of the SoulCycle cult.

We treated ourselves to an unreal Italian dinner of caprese, salmon, and gnocchi then got some gelato.

Jenn and I spent the entire night crying (aka sobbing) at military homecoming videos, marriage proposals, Google Chrome commercials, and the first episode of Fuller House. All of my friends have now gone out to party in Sao Paulo but I decided to stay behind and enjoy the night of having a room alllll to myself. Time to snuggle under my covers and enjoy my favorite kind of Saturday night.

Good night, dearies,

Aubrey

Living A Dream

(From February 18)

Of course, I’m just starting to feel comfortable, happy, and settled right as my group prepares to jet off into the morning sun towards Sao Paulo, Brazil. These past few days, though, have begun to greatly improve my impression of my experience in India, like sucking on a sweet candy after a particularly sour meal.

Let me clarify: it’s not India the country that’s been difficult or “sour,” and it’s not even my experiences themselves. It’s how I’ve thought about my experience since I’ve been here. I’ve been so overwhelmed (don’t take a drink every time you see that word in this blog or you’ll die of alcohol poisoning) and shocked and paralyzed that I’ve barely had time to process all of the fantastic things that I’ve seen and heard and lived. I’ve been too busy and occupied coping with the difficult, confounding, and sometimes downright terrible thing I’ve dealt with. So, finally having a few days of relaxing fun and exploration finally allowed for the novelty and wonderfulness of “holy sh*t, I’m in India,” to seep into my conscious.

Honestly, yesterday feels like a thousand years ago, but I’m going to do my best to recall. Sally and I woke up really early (like 7 AM) to rush to school in order to finish our groups’ separate presentations (and post Instagrams) (mine did very well, thank you for asking). In each country, we are required to do group presentations on certain assigned topics that account for 30% of a class grade. So basically, it’s my midterm season.

The presentations took all morning but were super interesting. Plus, I was just super proud of my incredibly passionate and intelligent classmates, and their investment in and knowledge of their topics excited me.

We gathered for lunch in our open courtyard then were given the rest of the day to do research on our final paper topics. (Don’t know if I’ve explained that yet, but I’ll get to it at some point.) Sally and I chose to spend the afternoon writing a paper (which was our last assignment in India!), because we don’t have the WiFi to turn it in today, the actual due-date. I ended up finishing about an hour before Sally and relished the speedy WiFi at our school that was completely unoccupied, since all other students had left. I breathlessly watched Netflix for the first time in a freaking MONTH, and while I truly enjoyed Crazy, Stupid Love, I couldn’t help feeling that I was sort of cheating on Bear Grylls. Hoping he forgives me<3

Sally, our friend Maddy, and I headed to the market for the last time to check out some deals and scour the walls for gorgeous Indian tapestries. I wasn’t planning on buying any, but I couldn’t resist their mesmerizing beauty, the jaw-droppingly fantastic prices, or the opportunity to hang up an ~authentic~ Indian tapestries in my dorm room. Sally and I also dawdled around and found some lovely gifts for our host mother.

Upon our return, we ate a delicious Indian dinner (my first full Indian meal in a week, woo!) and settled into bed early to watch Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, a true cinematic masterpiece. I feel like those are the moments I’m supposed to remember about study abroad, college, and life—snuggling in bed with a dear friend, cheering Harry Potter along in his first Quidditch game. Twas wonderful.
I woke up late this morning after a night of extremely vivid and weirdly disturbing dreams (I blame the malaria pills). Today was meant to be a full day of research, so naturally Sally and I planned to do basically everything but schoolwork. First, we finished up writing our postcards to friends and families back home then were accompanied by Shamim to the post office to send them off.

“Office,” though, may be a rather generous noun. This little stone building was kind of like an open-air hut, and when Sally and I attempted to approach the counter, a man was sitting on a table in front that blocked half of the window. So I kind of had to stand to the side of the window and lean my head over at a weird angle, attempting to hover as far away as possible from the unsubtly leering man.

It was pretty inefficient, taking the guy like 15 minutes to get our stamps, and I was getting impatient until I realized it literally takes the same amount of time to do anything at USPS in the States. Once Sally and I received our postage—which were old-school stamps the back of which you had to lick to get sticky—we prepared our postcards for mailing. We took pictures of the messages to send to our recipients in case the postcards never make it to America but quickly realized how ~artsy~ the pictures looked… So we spent an extra ten minutes arranging the postcards and stamps ~just so~ in order to craft the perfect Insta. We suck, we know, okay!!?!

From the post office (which I did not trust to send a full expensive package) we schlepped our belongings to UPS in order to send souvenirs and extra clothes home. After packaging our bags, inspecting every parcel for evidence of ??? (we don’t know, I personally think they were just curious), and overall just being super helpful, they quoted our prices. While our program directors had told us to expect a price of about 400 rupees (or 8 dollars) for international shipping, my total came out to… 6000 rupees (aka about $82). Haha. Ha. I literally laughed out loud. Considering I’d paid about $20 on everything actually inside the package, it was laughable to think I’d spend that freaking much to send it back. An inquiry over the phone to our good friend revealed that this was way too much and that she’d hired a courier service to send her stuff from her home for only about 2000 rupees. So we apologized, said thank you, and hurried out the door before they could charge us for packaging all of our sourvenirs.

Another thing I’ll miss from India—how freaking cheap everything is. I’ll be in for a rude awakening in Brazil, a country which is about as expensive as the United States.

Anyways—we ate a really yummy, “multi-national” meal for lunch (aka salads and Italian food) then excitedly walked to the closest McDonald’s for fries, McFlurries, and free WiFi.

Being at McDonald’s was so homey and interesting and fun. It was so different from home McDonald’s in that this restaurant legit felt like a happening, upscale place. The walls were black with artsy decals, super hip music was playing (hey there, Adele), and teens were gathered around tables chatting and lounging. Of course, we barely noticed the activity, as we were glued to our phones and the first available WiFi in 24 hours.

Around 4 PM (seriously, where did this day go), we hailed a rickshaw and rode to our friends’0 homestay for the courier service. We successfully shipped off our belongings for only a fraction of UPS’s price, and we were informed that our packages would reach home in only 3-5 days!!! Amazing service, bravo.

Sally and I headed to get pedicures at a spa right down the street from our friends’ house. An hour-long pedicure with massage, lotion, and nail-painting cost only *drum roll*…. 350 rupees. About $5.00. TREAT YO SELF.

I have really weird pinky toes that my pedicurist honestly did not know how to deal with, and the language barrier was practically impossible to puncture on this issue, so I just grabbed the nail polish and dealt with the abnormality myself. Woops.

On the way home, our rickshaw driver tried to rip us off by refusing to give us our ten rupees that he owed us because he “had no change.” UNACCEPTABLE. I don’t know if I was still on a sugar high from the McFlurry, or I was feeling ultra-confident due to my hot new toes, but I got super stubborn and simply refused to get out of the vehicle. I sat there, obstinately demanding my ten rupees (about twenty cents). The driver kept yelling at me in Gujarati but I just sat there with what I thought was a blank look on my face; honestly, though, it was probably a look of anger and feigned ignorance, because I’m really bad at hiding my emotions through facial expressions. I think that after ten minutes (literally ten minutes) this dude started to get scared that I’d never actually leave, so he removed about five rupees in coins from his shirt pocket and practically tossed them at me then threw his hands up in the air in exasperated desperation. I decided to cut my losses and hop out of the car with my hard-won ten cents.

But it was never about the money. It was about the principle.

Sally and I just had a delicious chicken soup dinner and are watching History Channel, because Discovery Channel’s gore doesn’t make an appetizing side to meaty dinners. We will be getting to sleep very soon so that we are well-rested for our nature retreat in the Little Rann of Kutch tomorrow. I’m so excited to drive out of the city, away from the crowds, this weekend. (yes I did just do that.) (have I told you about the time that I very ill-advisedly texted a boy lyrics from a Justin Bieber song to atone for my mistakes?) (stories for another day.)

I don’t know what’s more bizarre: that I’m actually beginning to feel almost comfortable here in Ahmedabad or that I’m about to start the acclimation process all over again in only three days. Well, nothing lasts forever. But this is getting good now.

See you in your Wildest Dreams,
Aubrey Stoddard 

How Many Words Are A Thousand Pictures Worth?--Day 2

All pictures with little descriptions tonight, because it's impossible to use simple words to articulate the beauty of this city!

Trying to scout out a good photo place near Topkapi Palace, but candid photos turn out best anyway!

Our first view of Topkapi Palace!

The Council of Ministers. They met in this building til the 19th century!

Imperial Hall, where the women of the court (including the sultan's favorite concubines) would gather and hold company. 

When the site for Byzantium (aka modern day Istanbul) was being chosen, the seeking men were told by an oracle to look for the land "across from the land of the blind." Well, when they came across this beautiful harbor with this view, they realized that the tiny little town across the harbor HAD to be for the blind--not that they'd ever actually verify!

Lunch with a view!

Because when you see a tree with a hole in it, what else are you gonna do?

You can see the Blue Mosque in the background!

Split capture photo: me and the ceilings of the Blue Mosque. It might sound strange, but I think the mosque looks better in pictures than in person!

No shoes allowed in the mosque. Off they go--good thing I got them halfway shined yesterday! (;

A kind and welcoming sign in the mosque. We sat in the Islam Information Center for about 20 minutes learning the basics. 

Onto the ferry for a cruise through the Bosphorous Strait!

Going around sunset was a good idea!

Turkish baklava--yum!

The name of this bakery/restaurant is NOLA Istanbul. I know that in Tel Aviv, there is a NOLA bakery that takes its inspiration from New Orleans pastries! I loved seeing the NOLA bakery here, but it definitely made me a little homesick for some pralines! (Hint: NOLA=New Orleans LouisianA)

And finally--you can drop me in any city in any country around the globe, and I will ALWAYS find the dog!!!

Not Pictured:

Grand Bazaar and Egyptian Spice Bazaar, where I actually successfully haggled for some souvenirs and gifts!

Numerous backstreets that showed off the residential life and hidden, non-touristy parts of Istanbul

And, the Hagia Sophia--because we wake up at 6 AM tomorrow to ensure we are the first ones there at opening!

Excited beyond belief--but definitely missing home,

Bittersweet Aubrey