I'm pretty sure we were both born Ottoman

We had no idea until we visited Topkapi Palace today that both of us are of Ottoman roots.  Terry's ties are manifested in their design sense.  Think goldm, abundant gardens and opulence.  For me, it's all about the comfort.  There isn't a room in the palace (at least in those visited by the sultans) that didn't feature SERIOUS couches.  Typically, the sultan met with no one other than the grand vizier and, of course, the concubines.  It would seem that he did nothing that didn't involve reclining on pillows on a couch (or throne).  When foreign dignitaries came to call, the sultan, of course, couldn't sully himself by meeting them in person (the vizier did this), but he would sit in a receiving 'pavilion' on a bed with pillows and the dignitaries would parade past a giant window with their 'offerings' of gifts.  Don't be surprised to find me employing this custom during your next visit to our house.  The 'palace' is really a campus of buildings and pavilions that were built by each sultan.  It's the size of the UC campus.  Each has a specific purpose, e.g., Circumcision Pavilion or Sporting Pavilion (the sultan would sit in his pavilion and watch sporting events on the lawn:

American Rant:  as two PERFECT visitors to any country in the world, we've decided that the Americans aren't the ugliest.  It's the English.  If someone is upset because they can't have 'proper toast' with their breakfast buffet (it's TURKISH, remember?), the tourist is British. End of rant.

After lunch we went underground...to the Basilica Cistern.  What's wrong with THIS concept:  I'm claustrophobic and we're going to go underground into an ancient cistern in a city that has a history of earthquakes?  Right.  I was in.  It was eerie and fascinating at the same time.  We opted not to don 'period attire' and have our pictures taken, so you'll have to let these suffice:

BTW, for those of you who've ever seen Midnight Express (it still haunts me), the American, Brad Davis, goes to the notorious Istanbul Jail (tevkifane).  Here's a view of it from our room.  The accomodations have been improved.  It's now a Four Seasons Hotel.

  Warning:  No pictures for this:

We went to a Turkish bath this evening before dinner.  It seems the only people in Istanbul who only speak Turkish work in the hamami.  You walk in, give them money and they hand you a box with your 'scrubbing thing' (kese) and point you toward a staircase. (women also are tossed a set of panties, but that's another story.  The facilities, once you pay, are completely separate.  We headed upstairs and were directed to a small changing room.  After stripping down and donning our pestemals (it's a think cotton towel that you wrap around yourself.  amazingly, we saw many who couldn't figure out how to do that without having it drop to the ground repeatedly) and were directed into the 'hot room'.  Imagine the Houston Astrodome had been built in the 1500s with the only light being tiny skylights.  In the center of the room is a HUGE marble slab that you lie on while you start the most serious sweating that you have ever done (even if you've lived through a Cincinnati August).  Then, a giant Turk (the extent of his English was, 'From?') used the kese you're given upon entering to exfoliate every inch of your being.  Briskly.  After that, the attendant douses you with copious amounts of soap suds and continues to wash you.  Just when you think you're finished with THIS part, he does a borderline-sadistic pummeling to get you ready for your massage. (I'll admit it, I almost cried at this point--and completely forgot that Terry was somewhere suffering the same fate.)  He then directed me to another room for an oil massage.  This guy was incredible.  It lasted somewhere between 45 minutes and two days.  I can't be certain.  This is followed by another shower (on your own).  After that, my sadistic attendant was back to get rid of the rest of the oil residue from my skin by bathing me again.  Then it's off to cool down, dress and (as suggested by the threatening Turk--whom I'd grown to like--in a Stockholm Syndrome kind of way) tipping for service before we left.  We'll do it again.

Had dinner at a great fish restaurant tonight (Balikci Sabahattin--'Sabahattin the Fish Guy').  All meals begin with an array of cold appetizers (mezes) being offered (you pick those that tempt you).  The incredibly fresh fish was simply grilled and couldn't have been better.  Figs & ice cream, as well as fresh strawberries (REAL fresh strawberries) to dip in powdered sugar rounded out the meal.