Carpetblogger

Ask Carpetblogger: What are your options if your pet dies in Istanbul?

Because we like to answer questions you didn't know you had and we like to write about things we're pretty certain no on else has and because we wish someone else had written about this already, we're going to tell you what options you have if your dog dies in Istanbul. We're servicey like that.

The answer to the question "what do we do after?" created a pit in our stomach well before any dog headed that direction. We imagined having to put them out with the trash or futzing around with taxis and shovels in Belgrad Forest, the only sizeable piece of undeveloped real estate within an hour's drive of home. Neither option appealed in the least.

Thinking the worst and incapable of asking the questions ourselves, we tasked the able and Mo-loving Villa Luna with assessing the alternatives. We dreaded her report, but we were surprised when she told us we had three choices, not all of them awful:

• Istanbul has a pet cemetery. Who knew? We didn't care much for this option, but we were surprised to hear such a thing exists.  Someone who has more motivation than we do should look into the who/what/wheres of this. In a culture where keeping animals as pets is a relatively new phenomenon and dogs carry lots of theological baggage, this is sort of intriguing.

• Official burial in Belgrad Forest. Apparently you can get a permit to bury your pet in the forest north of the city, which is the watershed for Istanbul's water supply. This option didn't appeal either but it's surprising to know it exists. We have no idea where you'd go to get such a document or how long it would take or who you'd have to bribe or if it wouldn't just be easier to be low profile about doing it yourself. It's a big forest and probably there are lots of things buried there without a permit.

• Cremation. You may or may not know that, like many observant Jews and  Catholics, Muslims don't cremate. So, while pet cremation is pretty common in the US (our ancestors have boxes of childhood dogs lying around), it was hard for us to imagine cremation was an option in a culture where people aren't cremated. As it turns out, it's expensive, but possible. Seriously, we didn't devote much energy contemplating the logistics surround this process so don't ask, but his ashes were returned a few days later, albeit in inappropriate packaging. The Turkish Life sought out a more appropriate container, which turned out to be a cookie jar from the bazaar.

Carpetblog: Answering questions you didn't know you had for a couple years now.

Ask Carpetblogger: What's the Word for Cockroach in Turkish?

There's nothing better than a hamam on a cold Istanbul day after a long flight. Bad Zimbabwe juju can only be purged using the most aggressive of techniques. Things wrong with the world seem righter after several layers of skin are  removed by a woman with enormous breasts wielding a kese made of steel wool. Our recent visit to our local hamam provided the best - and most thorough -- scrub we've ever had.

Carpetblogger's Preferred Hamam (TM) is not for the squeamish. A local joint, it's a little rough around the edges and has lots of smells, not all of them good. As we entered a Hamam Böceği (Hamam Bug)* scampered across the toilet area. Carpetblog's Kathmandu Correspondent had a cyst removed from her back with a melonballer after her last visit, but there's no more evidence linking it to the hamam than to all the other activities in which she's involved. Our Iranian Doctor claims she came out with folliculitis,  a disease we think she made up.

Regular readers know that with a high-quality hamam scrub, dead skin comes off in gray and brown ropes. The scrubbing ladies nod knowingly, confident in their assessment that infidels are inherently dirty.  It builds up on your torso and arms like pills on sweater, then you watch it swirl down the gutters that surround the göbbek (the hot marble table on which you lie) as she tosses buckets of water over you.

As a regular hamam-goer, we've developed some hypotheses that address the important question "where does all the skin go?" There's really only one plausible answer: in the dark beneath the hot göbbek and under the marble sinks, there's a giant pool full of skin-eating fish. The constant food source results in unnaturally large specimens, like the 6 foot long catfish we once saw in the cooling pools around Chernobyl (maybe that one was giant for a different reason). With no natural predators, they're old and scaly, just like their diets. They protect Istanbul's ancient sewage system from troublesome dead skin clogs and ensure that the grub swirling in the eddies at the shores of the Bosporus is nothing more than plastic bottles and jellyfish.

As we paid our 25 ytl (with the dollar no longer in the shitter, this is a remarkable bargain), the scrubber ladies urged us to tell all our yabanci friends about their hamam. We promised we would, using all the media available to us.

*Also known as a cockroach. Its presence in no way diminished our overall hamam experience.

Ask Carpetblogger: What are you wearing?

It seems like everyone these days is asking, “Hey Carpetblogger, what are you wearing?” We attribute this sudden surge of interest in our wardrobe not to a switch in careers but to recent preparations for our Ramadan trip to Yemen and Saudi Arabia. 

Our recent foray into online shopping for modest yet fashionable clothing at the desertstore.com was an epic fail. Instead of admiring the contrast between the photos of the all –male Saudi management and all-male south Asian tailors on its website, we should have been asking “on what women are they fitting these clothes to make sure components such as breasts, shoulders and hips are accounted for in their designs?” The sizes we bought were so far off the mark that it made us wonder if the designers and tailors had ever actually seen a live woman. Memo to self:  even if it sounds like fun, don’t buy clothes online from Saudi Arabia.

Because no one wants to spend money on unattractive, unflattering, poorly designed clothes that suggest medieval attitudes toward women, we delayed this little adventure until a mere hours before our plane was to depart for Sana’a. (it should come as news to no one who reads Carpetblog regularly that, while we appreciate the  institutionalized myths around which people structure their lives, we don’t really respect them.

Lucky for us, we live in a Muslim country! Several of our modest contemporaries suggested our best bet for value, selection and convenience was the IMÇ shopping outlet in Fatıh, one of Istanbul’s most fashionably observant neighborhoods.

In addition to Modest Clothing, you can buy anything at IMÇ as long as it’s floor coverings, upholstery, industrial sewing machines and musical instruments. Our modest contemporaries failed to mention that in order to locate the Modest Clothing section, one must navigate IMÇ’s five grey, multi-story soviet-style blocks. The mosaic art that failed miserably to add any visual interest to the drabness (dated 1965, too) confirmed that whoever designed the place studied at the Krushchev School of Retail Design. Failing to understand its logic, I located the Modest Clothing block tucked amongst musical instruments, last (see how long I’ve been out of the FSU?).

Our original shopping plan included a gay (or gay-wannabe) advisor, but that would have been a disaster in this all-female cocoon. The reaction of the modestly dressed sales girls to us, in shorts and a t-shirt purchasing tunics, ankle-length jackets and pantalons, ranged from bemused curiosity to matronly patience to giggly enthusiasm. Even so, we found the cultural, linguistic and stylistic gap impossible to bridge. Not only did nothing they propose appeal, we lacked the linguistic ability to communicate how to improve their suggestions.

We ended up buying four of the exact same tunics in different colors, a long coat that, while not an abaya, we’re counting on to mitigate potential conflicts with the Saudi religious police and something shiny for the glamorous iftar to which we have not yet been invited.

So with a new wardrobe like this, it’s easy to understand why interest in what Carpetblogger is wearing is running higher than usual among those outside our typical constituency.

Ask Carpetblogger: How Do You Maintain Your Youthful Skin?

Three words: Ant Egg Oil.  Your results may vary.

We get ours at the Bazaar in Kadıköy.

Ask Carpetblogger: What Is the Origin of "STAN"?

When not vetting vice presidential candidates for the McCain campaign, my ancestor spends his time thinking up questions for Carpetblogger. Not only did his most recent query arrive during our recent vacation to the Aegean coast, it generated some controversy, so it's taken some time come up with a response.

I had a wonderful dinner with U.T. and A.P tonight and the burning question is   “What is the origin of the “STAN” portion of the country names in the region?”   What does it mean and why is it in all the country names?  We decided that only you can answer our question.   So that we can sleep all night please inform us, either by direct e-mail or on the blog.  It is creating great stress and we must have the answer.

The Producer came straight out of the gate with a definitive "Russian. Stan means settlement in Russian." That may be and may explain all the central Asian 'Stans, but it doesn't explain all the South Asian 'Stans or lots of others that have no connection to Russia. Thinking of "Yunanistan"(Greece in Turkish)" and "Ermenistan" (Armenia in Turkish), plus all the Turkic-speaking central Asian stans, I thought it was of Turkic origin. But that also doesn't explain Pakistan or Afghanistan (which are both post-colonial, made-up countries anyway). The most we discussed it, the more Stans we came up with that didn't fit anywhere; what about Hindistan, Baluchistan and Uyghurstan? None of our contemporaries added anything useful to the debate, which is typical.

So, before this turned into a bar brawl, we turned to Wikipedia which provided an answer which, correct or not, satisfied all parties.

The suffix -stān (spelled ـستان in the Perso-Arabic script) is Persian for "place of", derived from the Indo-Aryan equivalent, -sthāna (pronounced [st̪ʰaːna] (स्थान in the Devanāgarī script), a cognate Sanskrit suffix with a similar meaning. In Indo-Aryan languages, sthāna is also used as a word to mean "place".

They appear in the names of many countries and regions, especially in Central Asia and the Indian subcontinent, areas where ancient Indo-Iranian peoples were established; in Iranian, however, it is also used more generally, as in Persian rigestan (ريگستان) 'place of sand, desert' and golestan (گلستان) 'place of roses, rose garden', Hindi/Sanskrit devasthan (place of devas, "temple"), etc. Both suffixes are of Indo-Iranian and ultimately Indo-European origin, the Proto-Indo-European root being *stā- 'stand,' which is also the source of English stand, Latin stāre, and Greek histamai (ίσταμαι), all meaning 'stand,' as well as many other words, for instance the Russian word стан (stan) meaning 'settlement' or 'semi-permanent camp' (used in reference to semi-nomadic settlements encountered in certain areas of Central Asia).

So, it turns out everyone is right. But the best part of the wikipedia entry is the list of Stans you've never even heard of.

• Hayastan, the name of Armenia in Armenian
• Hindustan, the poetic name of India and people are called hindustani
• Avaristan — Avari name for Avari land in Dagestan (Russia)

• Balawaristan — another name for the Northern Areas, Pakistan.
• Balochistan or Baluchistan
• Baltistan (in Pakistani Kashmir)
• Bantustan — Apartheid-era South African black 'homelands'; the term is coined by an analogy
• Bashkortostan — constituent republic of Russia
• Cholistan Desert
• Dagestan — constituent republic of the Russian Federation, literally "place of mountains"
• Gulistan ("rose garden" in Persian, an Iranian province and a city in Uzbekistan; compare with Gulistan Palace in Tehran and the poem by Saadi)
• Hindustan - originally either the subcontinent of India, or northern India and Pakistan.
• Kabulistan — ("The Kabul land" — old term used in many historical books and old Persian literature books for Kabul. Kabulistan contained a larger region than today's Kabul Province. Some times it is called as the country of Kabulistan)
• Kafiristan — ("land of the infidels"), historic region in Afghanistan until 1896, now known as Nuristan
• Karakalpakstan — constituent republic of Uzbekistan
• Khuzestan — a province of southwestern Iran
• Kurdistan — Kurdish region
• Kordestan - a Kurdish province in Iran
• Lazistan — another name for Colchis, a region in the Caucasus
• Lorestan or Luristan — a province of western Iran
• Nurestan Province — Afghanistan, formed in 2001
• Pashtunistan or Pakhtunistan is what many Pashtun nationalists call the Pashtun-dominated areas of Pakistan.
• Rajasthan — a state in India
• Registan — historic site in Samarkand, meaning "place of sand"
• Seistan or Sistan — a province of Iran and Afghanistan
• Tatarstan — a constituent republic of the Russian Federation
• Talyshistan - ethnolinguistic region in the SE Caucus and NW Iran
• Turkestan — ethnolinguistic region encompassing Central Asia, northwest China, parts of the Caucasus and Asia Minor
  • Russian Turkestan - Turkestan in the Russian Empire, later Turkestan Autonomous SSR
• Uyghurstan - Region of the Uyghur people, located in the north west of People's Republic Of China
• Waziristan — region of northwest Pakistan
• Zabulistan — a historical region in the border area of today's Iran and Afghanistan, around the city Zabol
• Zanjistan, or Zenjistan, term used in medieval texts to refer to the homeland of the Zanj, black slaves of probably East African origin

Carpetblog: answering questions you didn't know you had for a couple years now.

Ask Carpetblogger: Whose Pole Is Bigger? Azeris' or Gulf Arabs'?

For far too long, this has been a matter of speculation for us personally. But thankfully, the Wall Street Journal has done the legwork for us and determined that, at least for now, the Azeris have the biggest pole.

DUBAI -- David Chambers builds the tallest flagpoles in the world. His current client wants him to stop.

This month, Mr. Chambers is erecting a pole in the wind-swept Azerbaijan capital of Baku. At almost 532 feet, it will be the tallest flagpole on record. Azerbaijani officials, eager to savor the feat, have asked him to hold off building a taller pole for a year, he said.

Clients "always tell us they want this to be the last record," Mr. Chambers said from his small office in Dubai's sprawling port. "But they know, in general, that we're on a roll, and we're gonna build more poles."

A monster-flagpole building boom is sweeping across Central Asia and the Middle East, and Mr. Chambers, an American entrepreneur, is at the center of the frenzy. In the past eight years, he and his small company have built the world's four tallest "unsupported," or freestanding, flagpoles. The Baku pole will top all of them....

Last fall, the Azerbaijani government ordered a flagpole measuring 492 feet, enough to break the Aqaba record with plenty of pole to spare. But midway through construction, Mr. Chambers got a call from Baku.

He says he was told the country's president wanted to top North Korea's 525-foot-tall flagpole, near the border with South Korea. It sits atop a tower -- so it doesn't qualify for Guinness's "unsupported" category. But Azerbaijani officials wanted to beat it anyway. (The president's office said a spokesman wasn't available to comment, and officials didn't respond to emailed questions.)

Earlier this year, Turkmenistan cut a deal for its own tall pole. Mr. Chambers agreed to build one smaller than the Azerbaijani pole, which was already under construction. But he said he'd finish it quicker.

That way, Turkmenistan could hold the record for at least a few weeks. They got a discount because their record won't last, Mr. Chambers says. Turkmenian officials don't seem disappointed that it will be short-lived...

Mr. Romanos says his potential client is somewhere in the Middle East but doesn't want to be identified until construction starts. That's to keep neighbors from planning their own, taller poles.

"It's important that they keep the record as long as they can," Mr. Romanos says. "It's a pride thing."

Because if I was President of a country with pretty much unlimited resources, a medieval health care system, apocalyptic pollution and people still living in holes in the ground from a war I lost 15 years ago, the first thing I'd do to demonstrate my emergence on the world stage is erect the world's biggest flagpole.

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.

Ask Carpetblogger: Why do you hate India so much?

Instead of a lengthy rant, I think it's more effective to turn your attention to this BBC story about a New Delhi homeowner who fell to his death while fighting off a PLAGUE OF MONKEYS on his balcony.

A plague of monkeys. Is there any other kind?

I was intrigued, however, by the the line in the article about how cities are training bands of larger, more ferocious langur monkeys to go after the smaller groups of Rhesus macaques.

If monkey fights were staged for entertainment -- perhaps even wagering -- purposes  I might reconsider my position. If the monkeys in question had the plague, then definitely. I would go to India to see that.

One of the reasons I read Slate is because of the Explainer column, which often answers questions that I have in my head but never know whom to ask. Yesterday, The Explainer told us what to do if we are ever attacked by monkeys. This is news I can use. I once threw a book at a monkey that entered my hotel room in Varanasi, a horrible city full of hostile monkeys.

Ask Carpetblogger: Who IS that Woman?

This question is unique in the history of Carpetblog and it comes from a Mark Adkins, of Phoenix, Arizona:

My question is, who is the gorgeous woman pictured at the top left just below the "ABOUT" link?  The one in the painting?  Who is that, and where can I find bigger pictures?  I think I'm in love...

(I reserve the right to do a complete about-face if and when I see a larger picture -- I can't see much in the way of detail at present.)

And don't think you can just ignore this.  I'll keep pestering you until I find out.  Really.

Pester all you want, Mark! The story of this lovely lady is here. She is Afghan, and was a special present from a friend who wanted to make sure he brought a carpet I didn't have already! I can totally see why you've fallen in love. Right now, however, the Producer has custody. If you are in Baku, you could challenge him to a duel for her.

Ask Carpetblogger! How Do I Become a Bureaucracy Usta Like You?

It seems like it was just yesterday that I was dealing with things like setting up utilities, cable and ADSL in a language I don't speak, but here I am doing it again with only marginally more language skills.

Becoming an Usta (master) in Turkish bureaucracy is not something that can be achieved overnight, but every time you fail you learn something new and every time you succeed you feel like a complete bad-ass. My advice is start with something easy (setting up your Digiturk) and move up to advanced techniques (getting your resident permit).

Let's get started.

Do your advance work: There is a surprising amount of online information in Turkey in English. Many times, you can identify the location of the correct office, download the documents you need and figure out exactly what you should bring with you, thus saving you multiple trips and helping you avoid conversations you won't understand.

Block time. Do not assume it will go quickly and don't be in a rush. You will make mistakes and have to backtrack. You must not get annoyed.

Go early. This might be the most important hint. Crowds and chaos are your enemy, and while you cannot avoid either completely, you should do what you can to minimize them. Remember, Turks don't get up early. Get a good night's sleep the night before and be there when the office opens. Not only will you beat the rush, but you will avoid tea/lunch breaks which can disrupt the stamp-getting flow. Both you and the bureaucrats will be in a better mood, too.

Bring everything you think you could possibly be asked for: Passports, ikamet cards, tax cards, photos and multiple photocopies are the currency of Turkish bureaucracies. Come well stocked. Having it and not needing it is preferable than needing it and not having it. Remember though, if you forget something simple, there is probably someone selling it outside the door of the office that demands it.

Think like an Ottoman-era bureaucrat. Every figure is an authority and every authority figure needs a stamp. Your goal is to obtain a stamp from each of these authorities. Also, remember, no one can be trusted to handle money. If you understand this you will not be confused when you have to visit five windows for five different stamps and then go to the bank down the street to pay (you ALWAYS have to go somewhere different -- a different window or floor or building or city -- to pay). There is no penalty for going to the wrong window (other than time wasting). If you go to the wrong window, smile, be apologetic and someone will send you to the correct one eventually.  Remember, you do not need to understand what every stamp or window is for. Your goal is just to get them. (This is actually Carpetblogger's Key to Expat Success #4: You Do Not Need To Understand Everything That Happens Around You.

Watch carefully: Take a few minutes before jumping in to the process to read the signs (physical and psychological), to understand the flow and logic of the room and identify helpful, friendly-looking clerks. Identify centers of power in case you need to appeal to a higher authority. Look for another customer who is doing the same task as you and follow them.

Know your enemy. Your enemy is not the clerk behind the desk; it is other customers. Put on your game face and sharpen your elbows. Every new customer arrives, pushes to the front and asks a question.  This means that the clerk will stop doing whatever he or she was doing (i.e. helping you) to answer that question, probably only partially, then will forget to come back to whatever task he or she was doing before. This results in a room full of half-helped customers and clerks running around squawking. Americans are too polite and will fume quietly rather than join a scrum or cut a line. Get over this. Your goal is to cut the line yourself (play that foreigner card while  it still works!) while physically blocking other line cutters from getting to the front. Once you're there, you must make sure the clerk has space to focus on his or her task, which is helping you.

Make friends: Being a western foreigner gets you pretty far in Turkey (god help you if you are Russian or Bulgarian, though). Smile, be friendly and be free with your polite Turkish and the compliments.  This works in America, too. Once, while doing opposition research in an American courthouse, I was given documents I had no right to have simply by complementing the clerk's dress. The other goal is to identify a sympathetic, competent figure who maybe speaks a few words of English. This is especially important if you make repeat visits to a particular office.

Don't let anyone tell you you can't get your ADSL or telephone line yourself. It does take a little extra time, patience and creativity, but you can do it if you keep a few things in mind. In fact, I think many of these principles apply everywhere*, even if you do speak the language.

*Except the FSU. Forget it. You're screwed.