Carpetblogger

We Watch Sports

As many of you know, Carpetblog is an American-run operation. A female American-run operation. That means that our interest in almost all kinds of sport is surpassed only by our interest in, say, derivatives. Our interest in football is even more intense.

We've heard the arguments in favor of football and none are very compelling. Some have compared football to religion, which, while accurate, does nothing to enhance our appreciation for it. Lots of things are wildly popular while at the same time being screamingly boring.

Under intense pressure, and having not one better option on a Wednesday night, we succumbed and went to a bar, and not just to do what we normally do at bars. We went with the specific intent of watching Turkey play Germany in the 2008 Euro cup. If you want to understand how Turkey got there and what the achievement represents, there are plenty of other blogs that can explain it for you.

Because Americans view soccer/football as a game played by no one older than age 11, this is something of a watershed. Not that we've never watched a soccer game before -- alert readers will remember our monumental photographic achievements following in some aspect of the 2006 World Cup which involved Ukraine. We watched at least seven minutes of that game and joined the crowd celebrating on Maidan afterwards. We kept our shirt on, however.

 
It's true that there weren't as many boobies on display afterwards this time, and not just because the Turks lost. Unlike Ukies, Turkish women rarely take their clothes off in public.

We're not sure we can accurately characterize nature of the Turkey/Germany rivalry for Americans. It's sort of as if America played Mexico in some sport that we can't think of, with all the racism and divided loyalties it would inspire. As happens in a lot of countries, football exacerbates a particularly virulent strain of testosterone-driven nationalism here that needs little encouragement, even on ordinary days. People --particularly those with penises -- were pretty much out of their heads. Walking down Istiklal was like entering Magandalarstan!

The bar scene was grim. There were a lot of people actually watching the game, which we did not anticipate. No one wanted to chat. And they all devoted a lot of energy getting very excited about things that almost happened during the game, which is apparently very common when people watch football matches.

Don't misinterpret. We totally were rooting for the Turks. Anytime Turks want to wreak havoc in Vienna, Carpetblog is behind them. But really, our primary motivation for watching was seeing Turkey win, and hoping Russia would win, so they would play each other and we could root against Russia.

Victoria Beckham Without the Class

Azerbaijan's First Lady, Mehriban Aliyeva's political career is on a rocket-like trajectory, according to a recent article. Her primary qualifications?

She looked like Audrey Hepburn as she greeted the attendees - her black hair was tied elegantly in a tight top knot, she wore makeup on her dark eyes, and her short-sleeved black dress had a round collar that left space to show off her glamorous pearl necklace and earrings

The article contrasts her with Ermine Erdoğan, the Turkish Prime Minister's wife who was wearing a headscarf at this conference, which de facto disqualifies her from serving as a role model for anyone. Alieyva served as a role model for me once, when I sat next to her at a dinner and watched her not visibly react when the wife of the US Ambassador talked about how she and her husband used to go on dates at nude beaches.

Based on simple stereotypes, Mrs. Aliyeva would seem to be representing the West, and Mrs. Erdoğan the East. But one of the key goals of the conference was to get women thinking beyond stereotype.

This is true, if by "representing the west" the writer means "first lady of a hereditary dictator of a former Soviet backwater" and not "wife of a popularly elected Prime Minister in the one of the world's few functioning Muslim democracies." That's some serious stereotype-thinking beyond!

Mehriban Aliyeva is rumored to be a possible future president of Azerbaijan. If that possibility becomes reality, she will not only glamorously represent her country, but also be the first woman president of a Muslim nation. Such a president - indeed, such a woman - with passion and dreams for her country will stand as a shining example to the Muslim world.

I think the article missed an important nuance to this story. Only when even Muslim women can steal elections, beat journalists and become leaders of a hereditary kelptocracy will the glass ceiling really be broken. Mehriban Aliyeva is truly a pioneer. I wish her the best of luck in her political career.

Where, you ask, did this article appear? In the Moonie-tastic Washington Times, which is about as reality -based as Today.az. Some hack really earned his retainer getting this one placed.

Carpetblogger Weighs In: Amerikastan Part Deux

Carpetblog Recommends:

Portland and Seattle Beer: Perhaps you live in a Muslim country, such as -- just as an example --Turkey, and have forgotten that beer can taste like something other than ass. Fall in love beer all over again at the Laurelwood Brewery in Portland. Free Range Red is our favorite, while the Producer preferred Tree Hugger Porter. Perhaps you noticed the words "family friendly" on its website. Normally, this is a deal killer for us (and the primary reason we avoided the place when we lived down the street), but you can now get your organic ales to go in brown five-liter growlers or sit in the annex where shrieking ankle biters wearing unbleached cotton are sparser.

 In Seattle, I discovered possibly my favorite.beer.ever. It's Manny's Pale Ale from the Georgetown Brewery. Go to Seattle and find it.

Potato Guns: Is there any piece of weaponry that enhances a wedding more than a potato gun? I do not think so. A homemade dune buggy is a close second, but a five pound sack of russets, some margaritas and a giant air compressor provides hours of entertainment for  guests that could just as easily have been inventing cocktails or harassing the livestock. As far as I could tell, it launched those spuds into the next county. Cram some $100 bills into it and it’d be just like working on a USAID democracy project!

Pine State Biscuits, Portland: Goddam good biscuits whipped up by surprisingly clean hippies. Try the sausage and egg biscuit sandwich for breakfast.

Friends with Boats: I've posted before about how critical it is to cultivate expat friends who have access to cool things you want, such as boats. Friends with boats are equally as important in America, especially when east coast temperatures are India-esque. Our Ancestors are excited to have re-possessed from friends the 1976 (yah, really, 1976) bright yellow Bayliner we spent large portions of the 1980s waterskiing behind. It wasn't working the day we visited the Hood Canal, but we were able to extract an admission from the Ancestors that -- just possibly -- the color might be a bit on the garish side.

No such problems -- mechanical or aesthetic -- plagued the "Stars and Stripes," (see? we heart America!) a slick 36-foot white fiberglass cruiser on which we spent the day trolling the Chesapeake with the Operative and Jorge. It was a bass-tastic day of fishing and beer drinking with good friends. The primary advantage the Chesapeake holds over the Halıç and the Bosporus is that it is not necessary to enlist the hazmat team to hose down swimmers.

New Super Rica Taqueria Santa Barbara and El Huarache Azteca, Oakland: Just imagine that one of your first meals in America is the Super-Rica Especial; grilled poblanos with marinated pork and melted cheese on a corn tortilla. After that, you can't help but feel optimistic about the future, especially if you were  lucky enough to stand in line behind the Stephen "the TV" Baldwin while you waited for your food. El Huarache is an old favorite. Its mole is unmatched, particularly in Turkey.

Uwajimaya: This Asian megamarket made us a little jealous of expats from Southeast Asia who live in Seattle. Any little specialty item they want from home can be obtained from its long, perfectly ordered aisles of seaweed-flavored snacky crackers, durian-laden vegetable stands and extra-vivid meat counters. I got a can of basil seed soda. It tasted like basil-flavored frog eggs. Tasty!

The Ace Hotel, Seattle: Sort of a mix between a Salvation Army shelter (which it was) and a boutique hotel (which it is). Surprisingly, it works.

Hood Canal Oysters: I ate approximately 10, as fast as the Producer could shuck them, while sitting on an exposed rock at low, low tide. We can’t think of another food that tastes so distinctly of the environment in which it grew. We left plenty but we're not telling where they are.

The  Aporkalypse: The Ukrainians have more breadth in their pork repertoire, but no one can beat Americans at the barbecue. As one would expect at the weddings of couples who live in pork-free zones, quality pig products were served at both events. In fact, at the Chiplomat and Bentonator's wedding, the cooks greased the barbecue grill with pork fat, which was awesome. We also ate chorizo, pulled pork, pork cheeks, unnaturally pink sweet Chinese sausages and many varieties of specialty bacon. We bought several pounds of bacon and delicious non-white cheeses at Eastern Market in DC and put it safely in our luggage. It sat on hot tarmac at Dulles and CDG for many unanticipated hours. We ate it anyway. It was good.

My Mother's Prime Rib: Sadly for you, this is not available to the general public. Maalesef.

Belcourt:It is as important to have a friend with refined taste in food and booze capable of sorting through all of NYC’s restaurant options as it is to have friends with boats. Because this bistro in the East Village had the vision to wrap a pork chop in bacon and mix vodka with cinnamon, it wins the award for best meal of the trip. The Pundit’s ability to choose a good restaurant exceeds his ability to pick a karaoke joint.

During a leisurely post-game analysis over cocktails, Bentonator and I concluded that even though you have to have to put up with a lot of bullshit in America (people who watch Fox News, domestic air travel, excessive rules to name but a few), you can get a lot of really good shit there too.

Carpetblogger Weighs In: Amerikastan in Several Posts

After three and a half weeks, two coasts and six states, the 2008 Carpetblog Batan Death March is finally over. We saw hundreds of friends and relatives -- for 15 minutes each-- attended two weddings (the Producer did three), made lots of new friends, turned 40, initiated the aporkalypse more than once and sold almost everything in our Portland storage unit for less than $5 per item. (Most common phrases: "No, Mom, you didn't give us that." "No, of course not! We would never sell a wedding gift.")

Because we have no shortage of opinions, there were some things we liked. Most of these things fall into the categories of "food" and "booze" -- two areas in which America excels and for which we had high expectations. Of course, there are also some things we suggest you avoid. As it turns out, there were so many things we liked that the post was three pages long! That's why, in a effort to break our blogging dry spell, we're going to break this into several posts. We would have posted during the trip, but we swear we didn't stop eating, drinking and talking with friends long enough to take a breath for three and a half straight weeks. Anyway, America looks better at a distance.

Of course, we'll start with the things we didn't like. Live the Carpetblog dream while avoiding our errors.

Convertibles: Even if the Avis guy says it's only an extra $10 a day. Even if you're turning 40. Even if your  husband isn't there to squawk irrational objections as you sign the rental agreement. Resist the urge. Giving in guarantees the average temperature in late May/Early June on the whole west coast, from LA to Seattle, is about 50 degrees. It also ensures lots more irrational squawking on the long, cold drive between Atascadero and Gilroy.

American News: It is possible to watch several consecutive hours of TV news and see no story that is unrelated to traffic, weather or the latest health scare from which your family must be protected. We became worried over the weekend that some children would remain unprotected from the threat of salmonella-laced guacamolitos while the press jerked itself off with Russert coverage.  We know The Operative disagrees with us on this, but just because it’s sad doesn’t mean it’s news. It's Anna Nicole Smith for a different demographic.
 
Portland, Oregon Portland may be the only city in the world that's becoming less urban as it grows. With neighborhood streets almost entirely enveloped by rhododendrons covered in obscene blooms and slovenly oak trees, it looks like native forests are finally taking back their territory. There isn't a sharp edge or a non-recyclable in the entire city. If you crave extreme courtesy, thoughtful conformity and complete racial and ideological homogeneity and never, ever want to be challenged by something unattractive or contrary to your belief systems, move there now. Given the current political and intellectual environment in the U.S. --  whether or not the earth was created in seven days is still up for discussion-- I sympathize with the impulse to surround oneself with the like-minded. But seriously, could Portland be more boring? The mylar car dealership flags and orange self-storage units of SE 82^nd were actually a visual relief after block after downtown block of boxy “green” buildings built with sustainably-produced materials and painted in tasteful earth tones.

Tomorrow (or the day after): Carpetblog recommends!

No Olympics for You, Baku

Here's a shocker: Azerbaijan was not awarded the 2016 Olympics.That just goes to show that, even when it comes to the Olympic Committee, bribery and graft can get you only so far (Sochi demonstrates, however, that it can get you pretty far).

The participants in an Azerbaijan listserve we read do their best to boost Azerbaijan's chances for winning the lifetime achievement award for ridiculous conspiracy theory development, however. A few weeks back, after Forbes.com placed oil-soaked Baku at the top of list of the World's Most Polluted Cities, speculation on the listserve (populated, let me point out, by the intelligentsia), raged that Chicago's Olympic Committee -- clearly afraid of the competition presented by Baku -- was behind this unjust ranking.

That line of argument carried on only until someone else pointed out that Yerevan is polluted too but no one ever talks about it, taking the debate in a much more predictable direction.

Why Democrats Lose: First in a Five Month Series

I am thrilled that Barak Obama refuses to use religion as a wedge issue. Absolutely beside myself.

But how will he respond to those who employ it as matter of principle?

I SWEAR there will be a legitimate, non US-politics related post in the next seven days.

Barren and Almost 40

Creatively barren, that is. That's why there have been no posts lately.

Tomorrow, Carpetblogger and The Producer head to Amerikastan for three and a half weeks, three weddings, one 40th birthday and five states. We're also going to sell the mysterious contents of our Portland storage unit in our neighbor's front yard, swim in the Pacific Ocean and officiate at the "wedding" of our dearly beloved Chiplomat and Bentonator in Morro Bay. We're going to eat cheese that isn't white, drink wine and beer that doesn't taste like ass and eat Hood Canal oysters until we puke. If those activities don't generate a worthwhile post or two, we might retire from blogging.

In the meantime, if you want to read about Heydar Aliyev's personality cult, or Baku's mosque scene, check out our blogfriend Josh Kucera's excellent pieces on Slate this week from his visit last summer (and we say that not just because he linked to us and made us feel guilty for never writing anything anymore. Welcome Slate readers!)

The Streets of Cihangir Ran Red Today!

With fake blood.

Does anyone know why the Istanbul riot police fill their water cannons with red water? If they were doing it to mark their targets, they pretty much failed since 85% of the people who were not police at today's Cihangir May Day Riots were, like me and Awesome Mossman, underemployed gawkers. If it was supposed to look like blood, there was too much of it to be believable. There's usually only that much blood in the streets during Bayram.

But excess was really the theme of the day. I really don't feel like explaining May Day in Istanbul, but 31 years ago, 37 people were killed by police during May Day protests near Taksim. The incident was never resolved, no one was punished and ever since then, the government tightly controls all May Day commemorations and forbids large gatherings on the square. So, anti-government forces use May Day as an excuse to challenge the authorities and air a variety of poorly articulated grievances. To be clear, May Day protests have nothing to do with workers.

Since a gathering of more than a couple of people having tea on Istiklal attracts bus loads of riot police on a normal day, May Day really cleans out all the barracks and riot gear warehouses in anticipation. Cops started blocking access to Taksim early in the morning which wreaked havoc with traffic all day. Since those with rock throwing on their minds couldn't reach Taksim, they spilled into the surrounding neighborhoods. Last year, it was Beşıktaş and Dolmabaçe. This year it was Cihangir (among others).

If I need to remind you, we refer to Cihangir as "Yabancı Köy," or "Foreigner Village," because its gentrified streets, overpriced cafes and fine views attract scores of idle expats. Rioters throwing rocks at police in front of the tea garden where Cihangir's substantial leisure class wastes its days is so outrageous, it is simply not to be missed. That's the only reason I bothered to check things out today.

My guess is there were 3000 fully-geared riot police and an armored water cannon. If I were very generous, I'd say there were 100 rioters. The non-rioting, non-police contingent were split between gas-mask wearing journalists and people like me with cameras and flip-flops, numbering probably 300 or 400.

My sense is that most Turks don't really care all that much about the May Day incident anymore. Communists and Socialists are marginal and probably couldn't kick up much of a fuss on their own, so that leaves plenty of space for anarchists, anti-government rock throwers and assorted aggrieved dirty hippies to provoke the cops.

And I have to say, they managed some quality provocation. Rioters (look, I'm not calling them protesters, OK?) barricaded the Cihangir's main street with planters and parking barriers. They turned over dumpsters and started trash fires. Bottles and rocks and paving stones flew through the air when the cops moved in to confront the small pack of young men, but seriously, Cihangir=not Gaza. They dispersed into the side streets when the police advanced waving rubber batons and popping off tear gas cannisters. I did enjoy my first tear-gassing, but it wears off quickly and you can get back out in the mix pretty quickly.

I had forgotten how much fun things like this are (when neither side is taking it terribly seriously). It reminded me of the hot summer of 2005 in Baku, when every weekend we trekked to downtown Baku to run from the police as they beat the shit out of old women and threw guys into black windowed vans when the opposition parties tried to hold gatherings.  A high profile ambassador in Baku removed his lips from the Azeri government's ass long enough to chew me out once for "marching at the head of the opposition rallies." One of many regrets from that period is not posting what I saw or the photos I took at those events, but I didn't want to, you know, get myself in hot water. That all worked out pretty well for me, in the end.

The critical difference between today's riots and the ones in Baku was that the latter were generally peaceful. I take a dim view of protests as a political tool in general, but violent, message-free protests like today's are counterproductive and pointless.

Unless you like tear gas with your adrenaline, which I sort do.

Bursa's Women

Carpetblogger and Red State Sibling spent last weekend in Bursa, one of Turkey's largest cities, situated south of Istanbul and 30 kms inland from the Sea of Marmara. The historic (as opposed to the sprawling concrete) part of the city climbs up the side of Mount Uludağ and is home to lots of hot spring hammams. As (one of many) terminals of the Silk Road and the center of Ottoman silk production, it has wonderful hans and bazaars, even though the silk production industry has long since moved on to other places.

Now, it's a center of cotton production and is famous for its towels. Had I known how awesome and absorbent Bursa's cotton towels are, I would have bought a million kilos (the guy I bought from sold them for 10 YTL a kilo).

Even though Bursa's full of cotton and silk, this is not really a post about textiles. We discovered something about Bursa that's even more interesting than textiles, though still tangentially related.

In addition to the typical produce, silk and clothing bazaars, there's a "women's handicraft bazaar" in the center of the city. The stuff on sale isn't all that appealing -- a lot of polyester embroideries and laces in colors that don't appear in nature-- and targeted at locals, not foreigners. I passed through the stalls -- almost all of which were run by women -- taking photos because I thought it was pretty cool that there were so many women working outside the home in one of Turkey's most conservative cities.

Bursa was once the center of silk production and nearly every single woman on the street wears the ever-so-controversial turban (the Turkish headscarf that indicates the wearer is observant, rather than simply culturally conservative and/or from an Anatolian village. It's been in the news a bit lately). So it's not terribly surprising there are a lot of scarf sellers in the covered bazaar.

What was really surprising is how many of these scarf stalls were run by women. It's not that uncommon to see women working produce stalls, but to see women unfurling scarves like flags, while female customers gather around is really unusual. 

Then it occurred to me that the immaculate and friendly hotel we chose (the Çeşmelı) is run entirely by women (the reception staff cheered when we returned from the bazaar laden with shopping bags).

Someone needs to look into this. Is there a correlation between that women's handicraft bazaar and the number of women working in the mainstream bazaar? Do they start out in the women's bazaar and develop the skills they need to work with the big kids? Do daughters see their mothers working in the bazaar and decide that there's no reason they can't do the same or even manage a hotel?

I am fully aware that the turban is a powerful symbol of encroaching Islamization and a threat to the secular heritage of Ataturk, but it can also be a stylish accessory!  Bursa women -- to an even greater degree than their more cosmopolitan sisters in Istanbul -- really rock the look. The attention paid to coordinating scarf/jacket/shoes is impressive.

Of course,  if you keep your eyes open, there's always a devushka somewhere. The one in this photo must have just hopped off the Ukrferry from Odessa, except the length of her skirt and the absence of sequins, brass and rhinestones on her outfit make me suspect she might be an impostor.

Ask Carpetblogger: Does Camel Toe Have Two Meanings?

Because there are so many easy targets, Out of respect for the rich culture of Azerbaijan, I usually try to ignore ridiculous new stories coming out of Baku. But like the asshole hotel, once they hit outlets like FARK, I feel it's my duty to weigh in and add a bit of cultural context.

The local media recently busted the Camel Toe, a fine drinking establishment in Baku that I have used to illustrate so many anecdotes that Carpetblog (proudly) comes up in google searches of the term.  Apparently, the wizards at the state-controlled Today.AZ just discovered what the name means. (Don't know? Wikipedia does).

The retardedness of taking issue with the name of a bar that has been there for AT LEAST five years is exceeded only by the retardedness of the article itself. Because I don't trust you to click through, I'm going to parse it in this post so you don't miss a morsel.

Azerbaijan is among the most tolerant countries of the world.

This has been repeatedly stated even on state level. Our country serves as an example for other CIS states

This is true, though let's be careful about setting the bar too high. Azerbaijan does compare favorably to Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Belarus. However, the Kyrgyz have a real edge in the sheep fucking department and the Moldovans might have better food.

A pub named Camel's toe which initially seems to mean what it means -"A toe of a camel" functions in the very center of Baku, several meters away from the passage, at 22. Mamedaliyev street.

But, in fact the name has a double meaning. The Camel's Toe has a meaning "the clear visible presence of a woman's vulva as a consequence of wearing overly right [sic] pants.

A question comes to mind: was it named so on purpose? And what does the logotype of the pub, which locates in one of the most popular streets of Baku, mean? (see the photo below).

Impossible! A Baku bar whose primary clientele is snaggle-toothed rig monkeys and the women who love them was absolutely named in honor of the foot of a dromedary. What possible double meaning could be extracted from that?

The girl at the bar said the pub was named on purpose. "Every client understands it as he wills..." She refused to translate our questions to the bar owner saying that the latter is aware of the name.

Well, we would not make any conclusions. But several questions arise unwittingly.

Why did they name the pub like that? Could they not understand that this may arise protest among the local population?

I would say the questions arose dimwittedly, but in a country like Azerbaijan which, in addition to its tolerance, is also known for free and open debate in the media, that might be unfair. Also, since the local population utters nary a peep when the national treasure is appropriated by the kleptocracy while IDPs live in holes in the ground, the owners of the Camel Toe probably felt confident that opposition to the name of a bar would be muted.

Perhaps, the British citizens wanted to introduce European culture in Azerbaijan, forgetting about the local mentality?

Perhaps, they wanted to mock at Azerbaijanis, who are not aware of such details of British slang? Or perhaps they bound the slang name of the pub with Azerbaijani ladies, visiting it?

None of the Brits I knew ever tried to introduce any kind of culture, European or otherwise, to Baku. Furthermore, "camel toes" would be the least unkind thing you could say about any Azerbaijani "ladies" that frequented that bar.

The article is infused with a "I'm shocked! Shocked!" tone at the prospect that prostitution *might* be going on in the neighborhood.

By information, our news agency received, prostitutes are working at some pubs, providing services to foreign "fat cats" for at least $500. "Ladies" do not want the local population to see them, therefore, such establishments are usually private and local residents are not allowed in.

So by "private" Today.AZ must mean "advertising in all the English language newspapers" and "garishly signed on the street." And why would any local visit an overpriced pub aimed at foreigners when there are at least eleventy-million sleazy joints offering bargain-basement whores within a 10 block radius that appeal more to the "local mentality" (i.e. young and hairy)? Remember the old Carpetblog rule about bars which you have to walk downstairs to enter?

The sheer number of whorehouses in a downtown area might be yet another area in which Azerbaijan leads the CIS. And when you're competing against Kyiv and Moscow, that's quite an achievement.

All this manufactured outrage at Today.Az suggests to me that the owner of the Camel Toe got sideways with someone in the government, or ran a whorehouse that provided too much competition to the other brazillion in the immediate vicinity or the local liquor importing cartel decided to play hardball. The Producer, who is once again Carpetblog's on-the-ground eyes and ears, reports that the fuss is the work of a disgruntled employee.

Three Products I Would Never Have Found

Had I never gone to Bursa over the weekend (a trip which definitely deserves a more detailed post).

I don't like to tread on Melissa Maples' territory, but since my companion on this trip, Red State Sibling, made it her mission to photograph every Chinese T-shirt non-sequitur (are they Chinese or Turkish?) she came across, I saw a lot of good examples, including these two:

Yes, I too would very much like to teach the world to sin.

The Turkish snack Bal Çerez is not hard to find. Jars of meticulous layers of honey-soaked pistachios, almonds, walnuts, peanuts, hazelnuts, caraway, pinenuts, apricot seeds and black cumin are pretty common in bazaars and supermarkets. The architectural layers look as good as they taste -- sort of like peanut brittle or a peanut butter and honey sandwich.

Some makers take a more sophisticated approach to marketing than others, as we were to discover after Red State Sibling decided to buy up the country's entire supply.

Yes, you're right. It is called "Super Performance Doping" and that is a half naked strongman man holding up two giant jars of bal çerez and a honey bee. Made in Antakya in Turkey's southeast, the Arabic and lack of Turkish suggests Syrians might be the primary market of this particular brand.

I don't know how the Olympic Committee would weigh in on the ingredient list (is doping really even illegal anymore?), but the label makes some pretty bold health claims.

"For every one who wants to be young with a strong mind and nerves and for every old man who dreams to have his youth back."

Doping's secret ingredient, which also distinguishes it from the other 15 jars we bought, is apparently bee pollen and its less well-known and equally potent cousin, bee milk. Other brands claim to have aphrodisiac qualities.

Having already consumed half the jar, I can confirm while my youth may or may not be back, Red State Sibling has been wearing the first t-shirt around.

The Olympic Torch In Istanbul

My views on the Chinese Olympics aside, the Olympic torch relay is the type of clusterfuck that I would avoid like the plague. Unfortunately I found myself on the last bus across the Galata Bridge, just before they shut all the major streets down between Sultanahmet and Taksim for the passing of the torch. Istanbul traffic is static in the best of circumstances; shutting down streets in the middle of the day is a disaster.

I should have noticed the heavily armed riot police on every corner and police helicopters overhead before even leaving my couch, but if I stayed home every time the Turks put heavily armed riot police on every street corner, I would become a bigger hermit than I already am.

Faced with the prospect of neither arriving at my destination nor being able to get back home, I decided to watch. As it happened, a torch transfer happened two feet from where I was standing. I don't know who the guy was who was taking the torch, but the TV cameras were pretty excited about him. Maybe a Turkish reader knows.

The manufactured display of excitement was just as corporate as you'd expect, with the flags of Coca-Cola and Samsung more prevalent than the national flag of the country we stood in. Yay globalization!

The relay failed to attract much attention on the streets of Sultanahmet. Most Turks and tourists seemed happy enough to be able to walk up blocked Alemdar Cad. and not get squished between the tram and a taxi

Carpetblogger Celebrates Fertility

Carpetblogger confidantes are already aware of our views on traditional forms of reproduction. Breeding has always been one of those things we know people do but would never conceive of doing ourselves. This policy chagrins various ancestors.

That's not to say we have no biological clock. In fact, sometimes it ticks so loud, all other sounds are drowned out. It only happens in early spring, though.

Unlike the women (and male -- you know who you are) who got all flushed at the sight of baby jumpsuits at the Awesome Mossman Baby Shower last weekend, our ovaries start to hurt when we see seed packet plumage and  green hoses coiled up outside garden shops.  Spending time with most (there are exceptions) children reminds us to double up on the birth control, but the garden department of Bauhaus (the Turkish Home Depot), with its sprouting bedding plants and neat stacks of potting soil, looks like the nursery of our dreams.

It's been five long years since we've been able to plant anything, but an ill-advised February vegetable garden back in Portland taught us long ago suppress the urge to start digging in dirt too early. Istanbul's spring has arrived in fits and starts, with a few 70 degree days followed by a week of cold and gray, but the need to grow something has become overwhelming.  It's time to sow!

The street-facing Carpetblog residence has rows of window boxes on the first and second floors. In fact, it was the potential of the window boxes that drew us to the house in the first place (its carpet-friendliness was a close second). The boxes sat barren last summer, because truthfully, our urge to grow things evaporates entirely once it's hotter than 80 degrees.

Our first stop was the Eminönü Beleyedesi flower market in the lovely Gülhane Park.
There, the municipality sells hundreds of pink and purple tulips in bloom. If creeping Islamization means millions of tulips in April, I'll get my headscarf out. Along with flats of begonias, geraniums and daisies. They also sell big pots of hydrangeas and rhododendrons, which in Turkish are called "ormanı  çiçek" or "forest flowers." That's exactly what they are! I don't get homesick very often but the forest flowers made me think of the Columbia Gorge where the rhodies at lower elevations are probably starting to bloom. We would like to be hiking among them right now.

The garden market next to the Spice Bazaar has an even greater plant selection, plus a lot of grass seeds, baby chicks, buckets of dog and cat kibble and leeches. There are plenty of vegetable seedlings too, which made me nostalgic for my south-facing tomato garden in Portland. I grew so many tomatoes I would bag them up and leave them on the neighbors' porches at night. No one in Portland needs extra tomatoes or zuchinnis in summer time.

We rounded up ten bags of soil and three flats of begonias, impatiens, geraniums and little filler flowers as well as assorted herbs to hang in boxes on the sunny back side of the house. As I poured bags of soil into the window boxes, the Kurdish ladies in the building across the alley leaned out their windows, watching and encouraging me. "Çıçekler çok güzel!" "The flowers are beautiful!" they said. And indeed, they are.

It was probably the first time I had done anything they recognized as normal female behavior.

Carpetblog Takes Issue: The Exile Goes to Baku

In  typically long-winded piece, Moscow's The Exile gets Baku mostly right. There's also a fine photo essay here from which all these photos come.

Carpetblog does take issue, however, with a few points, in descending order of importance.

Sit on a bench along the posh shopping boulevards in downtown Baku and you’ll soon spot the only two species of western Baku expat: the well-heeled consultant talking oil jargon to his Blackberry, and the Cockney-accented offshore rig worker. Both gather in the same British pubs at night to drink ale, watch rugby, and trade stories about the Russified Shia whores who are as much a part of the oil economy as BP. It is arguably the most depressing expat scene in the world. Even the Riyadh compound rats have clear skies and breathable air.

Most depressing expat scene in the world? Are you for serious? Sure the air's a little dark and the water a little chunky. And, if you lie down with Rig Monkeys, you're definitely going to wake up with whores.

As a Baku expat, you can do anything you want*. You can get nearly any prescription drug over the counter. You can sleep in the bushes on the Boulevard. You can buy your way out of any jam (well, most jams). You can dance until your nipples bleed.  You can ignore every traffic law. You have access to all kinds of bars, as long as they are English, Irish or Scottish. You can buy any DVD the day it's released in the theaters.   You can walk around Fountain Square at 3 am, bearded, in a shalwar kameez and the police won't know what to do with you. No one will notice if you are too hung over to do your job, since no one expects you to accomplish anything and it's probably a week-long holiday anyway. There are thousands of creative ways to entertain yourself, including one or two that don't involve alcohol or soviet-made cars. What's not to like about that?

Seriously, several expat scenes pop immediately into my head that are much, much worse.

I liked the article because it's the first one in a while that's done any probing into the Azerbaijan-American Chamber of Commerce, even though it doesn't get very far into it. I was disappointed, though, when it parroted the same old tired opposition and media NGO lines, without really questioning. 

"The stabbing of Agil Khalil is part of campaign of repression about the Azerbaijani press,” says Emin Huseynov, Chairman of the Institute for Reporters' Freedom and Safety in Baku. “Every March before an election there is an attack on the press. Before the 2005 parliamentary elections, the editor of the Monitor Journal was murdered. The government wants to instill fear and prevent dissident thinking.”

"Every march before an election there's an attack on the press?"OK, you mean like, twice? There were none at any other time? And anyway, the government doesn't have to try very hard to prevent dissident (or any other kind of) thinking in Azerbaijan.

Huseynov also does not discount the possibility that the attack on Khalil was intended as a message to the West. “It is interesting that just two days before [the stabbing] the U.S. released is annual report on human rights practices,” he said. “There is something to the theory that after such reports are released, attacks like this take place as retribution, to make the point that such reports [accomplish] nothing, and that our government has no obligation to listen to other countries.

I guess if you think anyone actually pays any attention to State Department Human Rights reports, this theory might be plausible. Mostly, these are just the fantasies of powerless people who harbor the illusion any western Embassy is going to do anything about the human rights situation in Azerbaijan, other than make the occasional meaningless gesture.

Still, if you heart Baku, the article and photos are worth a look, despite these quibbles.

*These are things I've heard you can do in Baku.

Carpetblog Exposes Corruption!

Instead of being victimized by official corruption, or more likely, taking advantage of it, Carpetblogger seems to have exposed it! 

Almost certainly as a result of this post, the Bulgarian government is  shutting down the skeezy border "duty free" shops, that the Chiplomat and I concluded are best source of mobbed-up Moscowskaya vodka within three hours drive of Istanbul. Apparently the EU says such places are "a focal point" for corruption and organized crime. While this may be the case, I suggest the EU drive a little farther into Bulgaria and they might find one or two other focal points.

This is bad news for people who think Bulgaria is a good source of cheap vodka. It's good news, however, for people who want to think Bulgaria is anything other than the only ex-Soviet Republic that managed to join the EU.