Philip Greenspun’s Weblog

Gentle readers,

I’m trying to write up a Christmas gift guide for photo.net. I’d like to find a camera phone to recommend. As our readers are photographers first and talkers second, I want a camera phone that looks just like a point and shoot digital camera. It should have an optical zoom lens and 5-10 megapixel resolution. Somewhere in there should be a phone so that photos can be mailed to friends. I think Samsung has made some of these, maybe for the Korean market (e.g., SCH-B600). Is there anything like this on the US market or possibly an unlocked GSM phone? It doesn’t have to be the world’s best phone, just adequate.

Thank you in advance.

Philip

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Everyone I met in Turkey hates American foreign policy. Nobody I met in Turkey hates Americans. How is this possible? It seems that George W. Bush is the Jesus Christ for our [American] times, taking all of our sins upon his shoulders. The Turks with whom I spoke blamed George W. personally for all of the harm done by the 300 million people here in the U.S. As far as I can tell, George W. never does anything except ride as a passenger from speaking venue to speaking venue. Therefore, the things of which the Turks are complaining must have been done by at least some of the rest of us, yet W. personally gets 100% of the blame.

George W. does not simply follow Jesus. He is Jesus.

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Ellis Vener sent me this BBC story that reports a claim about global shipping producing more carbon dioxide than airplanes: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/7052037.stm

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Our high school here in Cambridge, Massachusetts made it into yesterday’s Boston Globe. Only 35 percent of students passed the biology exam (sample questions). We have the distinction of the lowest passing rate in the state, below towns such as Lawrence and Brockton that are blighted by poverty and challenged by immigrants who don’t speak English.

How much did it cost to produce this spectacular result? Our spending is among the highest in the state of Massachusetts, at $23,611 in 2004-5; presumably somewhat higher now (source).

[You might expect kids in Cambridge to be motivated to study for the biology test because most of the growing employers in the town are biotech.]

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Our host family in Turkey watched the TV news every night. My father, who was a teenager during WWII has the same habit of taking news seriously. Within the memory of our hosts and their 18-year-old son, Turkey has been through financial crises, military coups, more than 30,000 people killed by Kurdish separatists, and small wars that nearly turned into big ones (e.g., Cyprus). What is currently keeping them glued to the TV are recent attacks by Kurdish separatists that have killed 15 Turkish Army soldiers and the idea that the Turkish Army may go into Iraq.

[I pointed out that the last country to invade Iraq didn’t achieve very good results. Upon further reflection, it occurred to me that maybe this is our solution for the Iraq problem. We pull our troops out and give the country back, not to Saddam or his heirs, but to the Turks, who governed it as part of the Ottoman Empire.]

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One guide talked about the Turkish custom of giving substantial cash to newlyweds: “I make between $500 and $1000 per month. If I were invited to a wedding, I would have to give at least $200 to the couple or people would talk about me.”

We learned later that the president and prime minister of Turkey had taken advantage of this custom by inviting nearly 5000 people to their childrens’ weddings, raking in literally $millions from distinguished and wealthy guests (who could be expected to give $thousands).

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The Turkey trip is winding to a close. Here were some of the highlights (this posting is mostly for friends and family)…

Days 0-2: Istanbul. Loved the boat rides on the Bosphorus. Had fun on the main pedestrian street of Beyoglu (home to three Starbucks, one McDonald’s, one Pizza Hut, etc.). A “pedestrian street” in Turkey means that cars only drive through every 2-3 minutes (illegally). They push into crowds of dozens of people at 5-10 mph and honk if folks don’t jump out of their way fast enough.

Days 3-6: Assos, Troy, and Bozcaada (formerly Tenedos). The Aegean coast is pleasant, especially when you are staying in a 20,000 square foot beach house with courtyard, infinity pool, and full-time staff, but seeing the walls of Troy is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The site is not that popular with Turks, who claim not to see what the fuss is about and complain that the ruins are more ruined than Roman ruins. I loved it and learned something new. The famous photo of Sophia Schliemann wearing Helen’s jewels (within http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heinrich_Schliemann ) I had always assumed depicted Heinrich Schliemann’s daughter. It turned out that the 47-year-old divorced German merchant married an 18-year-old Greek girl. Met a good resource for the next trip: http://www.thetroyguide.com/

Days 7-8: Istanbul sightseeing.

Days 9-12: Cappadocia, leaving girls in Istanbul, arranged by Ceylan at www.equinox.com.tr. This is truly one of the world’s most bizarre built environments. The volcanic tuff on the surface facilitated the carving of churches, monasteries, houses, and hotels into rocks. Erosion results in Bryce Canyon-style hoodoos sticking up in the middle of towns. In the bad old days when Mongol and Muslim invaders rode across the plain, the Christians here defended themselves by building massive underground shelters, up to 8 levels deep and capable of holding thousands of people.

Something new: rode a hot air balloon piloted by Cihangir, a rock solid guy with 4000 airplane hours who turned to balloons 15 years ago. Watched four guys dragging our balloon 300 meters from “near the preferred landing area” to the top of a flat trailer. It turns out that being a balloon wrangler is pretty strenuous, esp. when 28 fat tourists are hanging underneath. Earplugs are essential, at least for the one ear closest to the burner. Layers are also a good idea as it starts out cold (pre-sunrise) and ends fairly hot due to burner.

What else? Rode a horse (very different than in the U.S. due to lack of personal injury lawyers… and not in a good way). Rode a bike (very different than in the U.S. due to the lack of Turks of 6′ in height and/or with any interest in precision bicycle maintenance). Saw a beautiful silk carpet made by the Cenar family, about 1/2 square meter for a mere $67,000 (tour company, guide, and driver split a 40% commission so it would have been a good day for them if I had bought it).

Days 13-14: went into bazaar with two women; very costly error. Normally I see something attractive and expensive and think “I would buy this but I’m not sure if anyone tasteful would think it was in good taste.” Mallory and Oya have exquisite taste so when they responded positively to something that I picked out, I had to buy it. Left the bazaar with a literally empty wallet, owing Oya about $80 and trailing a guy carrying all of our stuff.

Shopping in the bazaar can be a truly pleasant experience. We sat in http://www.sengorhali.com/ (owned by one of Oya’s uncles and a great place; they don’t pay commissions to guides so you start off with prices that are 30-40 percent lower than in the standard tourist places (that said, nothing is cheap in Turkey and you can probably buy handmade rugs for about the same price in the U.S.)) and were served the beverages of our choice. When I mentioned to Oya that a doner sandwich would be nice one of the guys called up a nearby restaurant to have them bring it over. When Oya suggested to Mallory that she get some tiles as gifts for neighbors, one of the carpet shop guys ran over to the tile shop and brought back a selection of tiles (about $2.50 each).

Last full day described separately in this Weblog under “Turkish Bath”.

Things that I learned that I will write in a future photo.net article…. (notes to self)

1) try to find a great guide and arrange his or her time in advance; the standard of education is not very high in Turkey and the typical guide will not have a university education in history or archaeology but rather will have attended a 6-month guide class.

2) go up the top of the Galata Tower near sunset to get good pictures of the Golden Horn and Sultanahmet.

3) fly into Kayseri instead of Nevsehir to visit Cappadocia. The Nevsehir airport seems to have no rental cars, the flights are at bizarre times, there is no shuttle, and a ground transfer or taxi ride to Goreme will cost more than the flight from Istanbul.

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All of the Turks with whom we spoke reacted with horror when we expressed interest in going to a Turkish Bath (hamam): “You’ll come out dirtier than when you went in”; “They are for poor travelers to the city”; “A 200 lb. hairy Turkish guy will scrub you raw”; “Anyone with money who wants a Turkish bath has one built in his house.” None had been to a public hamam at any time during their lives (ranging from 40 to 80 years old).

While visiting the best carpet shop in Istanbul, the proprietor, Ahmet Sengor, told us about a “hotel hamam” that would be clean and, more importantly, staffed with lithe Russian beauties. “It is out near the airport in the Polat Renaissance Hotel. They also have a nice gym.”

Our day began at an Istanbul Biennial art exhibit featuring a Chinese installation of an expedition that went to saw off the top 1.86 meters of Mt. Everest. Next stop was Nisantasi where the girls looked at $10,000 necklace/earring combos and I photographed the cow sculptures dotting the sidewalks. We fought our way through heavy traffic to Beyti, the kebab restaurant favored by heads of state (obligatory letter from Bill Clinton on wall) and visiting business executives. After Mallory ate delicately, Oya reasonably, and I gluttonously, Oya’s driver delivered us to the hotel. Oya did not wish to break her lifelong trackrecord of hamam-free bathing and wished us well.

Mallory went into the women’s section with a trim middle-aged Turkish woman in a neat uniform with what turned out to be a bikini underneath. I went into the men’s section with a thin white towel around my waist and was soon met by a short hairy 200 lb. Turkish guy, naked from the waist up wearing a similar towel. He would be doing the scrubbing, which necessitates forceful pulling of arms and holding of heads while dousing the customer with water.

The details of the bath itself are best forgotten. For a better idea of what it was like, rent the Borat movie and watch the scene where Borat and his producer fight in their hotel.

Oya told us that to get the maximum benefit from the hamam one must stay for an hour or two afterwards to let the moist heat open up the pores in the skin. Mallory was hot and I was fat so we decided to move on to the exercise portion of our visit to the Polat Renaissance.

The gym is as nice as any gym in the United States, with banks of clean new machines, an indoor pool, three hot tubs, and an outdoor pool with a patio overlooking the Sea of Marmara. Sadly the outdoor pool isn’t heated and we were advised that it was shockingly cold. A girl in the weight room explained why the place was so empty at 6 pm: “People don’t come here until after work. If they leave their office at 6 the traffic is so bad that they might not get here until 8. People therefore usually stay downtown until 7 and make it here by 8:15 or 8:30.” What does it cost to be a member of such a nice gym? $300 per month (Turkish bath plus exercise for a day tourist was $120). What about salaries at her company, a clothing manufacturer downtown? The seamstresses get paid about $550 per month.

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One of my guides in Cappadocia was kind enough to give me some dating advice for Turkey. He is a handsome fellow in his late 20s with a gorgeous girlfriend so he speaks with some authority. “Forget about girls in the eastern portion of Turkey who haven’t been to university,” he started, “the real action begins at age 19 for girls in their first year at the university, especially those girls from western Turkey.”

“There are clubs for elite people along the Bosphorus in Istanbul,” he explained, “that I couldn’t get into by myself and maybe only with my girlfriend. Turks have to telephone ahead for a reservation but you’re an American so they will let you in regardless.” What age of woman would be interested in a 44-year-old guy (my birthday was September 28 🙁 )? “Any age woman, starting at 20, would be interested in an American. They assume that you have money.”

Dress code? He looked at my stainless steel watch. “Get a gold watch. Let them know that you are staying at a top hotel.”

Cautions? “Make sure that they are not there with their boyfriend or brother. You could get punched.”

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I’ve finished three books about exotic cities with a multi-lingual, multi-ethnic, and multi-religious population.

The first is Orhan Pamuk’s Istanbul: Memories and the City. The publisher pushes this as essential reading for tourists who want to learn about Istanbul. About half of the text of the book is devoted to the author’s feelings and memories of childhood. He loves his mother and is fascinated by her makeup and clothing. He loves (male) Turkish writers who are captivated by the beauty and sexuality of teenage boys. He is often melancholy, even after sex (perhaps because his partner wasn’t a teenage boy?). You would be forgiven if you thought that this was a lost work of Marcel Proust. The other half of the book has some interesting information about Istanbul.

Pamuk claims that the entire city suffers from melancholy and despair because of the collapse of the Ottoman empire and subsequent decline in the city’s relative fortunes. He celebrates the contributions of Greeks, Armenians, and Jews to the city’s culture and mourns the departure of these ethnic groups (Pamuk notes that Istanbul was more than half non-Muslims at the beginning of the 20th century and nearly 100 percent Muslim at the end; he says that the Christians and Jews were encouraged to leave after their property was confiscated in the 1940s and by riots in the 1950s that destroyed their homes and shops). Stories of ships colliding in the Bosphorus are captivating (you have to sail through downtown Istanbul to get from the Mediterranean to the Black Sea).

Pamuk’s own family has suffered a decline in their fortunes, but he doesn’t seem to notice the rise of other families. The latest shopping malls are grander than any palace that the Sultans ever built. The bridges spanning the Bosphorus are engineering achievements beyond anything the Ottomans might have dreamed of. The wealth of modern day Turkish businessmen exceeds anything the Ottomans had. It is true that the Ottomans ruled an empire, but it was an empire mostly of illiterate peasants who couldn’t pay much in the way of taxes. Modern day Istanbul is at the center of a powerful growing economy of 70+ million people, nearly all of whom are better educated and better employed than their 19th Century counterparts.

Summary: an interesting book for fans of Pamuk’s other writing, not particularly instructive about Istanbul.

The next book is Justine, the first novel in Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet. The exact time of the novel isn’t specified, but they have cars and don’t have antibiotics, so 1920s or 1930s seems like a good guess. The city has little industry and people don’t work very hard so they spend all of their time having sex with each other, regardless of marital or economic status. Unlike with Pamuk’s book, the sex tends to be heterosexual. There is a lot of mingling among Europeans, Arabs, Copts (descendants of the ancient Egyptians who built the Pyramids), Turks, and Jews. Poverty is a common condition, one that often leads to arrangements of a sexual nature. Love is understood by all concerned to be a transitory phenomenon.

Summary: Too bad these folks did not have access to modern scientific research, such as http://www.theonion.com/content/news/study_casual_sex_only_rewarding

The Man in the White Sharkskin Suit by Lucette Lagnado is the most educational of the three. She chronicles a century of her family’s history in a way that illuminates the general via the particular. Her family starts off in Syria in the early 20th Century. The breakup of the Ottoman Empire has enabled the local Arabs to indulge their passion for anti-Jewish violence (the Ottomans discouraged violence against taxpayers; they didn’t care what religion someone practiced as long as he or she paid taxes). The family flees to Cairo where her father grows up to enjoy a fantastic social life, mostly enjoyed after dark and with a lot of different women. The city is a paradise of neighborliness and opportunity created by the mixture of well educated and sophisticated foreigners and religious minorities. In his early 40s, Lagnado’s father marries a beautiful 20-year-old and installs her in his mother’s house where she becomes miserable from isolation and his nighttime wanderings and presumed infidelity. As an Arab nationalist government supplants the monarchy, the Arab Cairenes become increasingly hostile towards their Christian, Jewish, and foreign neighbors to the point where most of the non-Arab Muslims have to leave by the early 1960s.

Jews are allowed to leave with no more than $30 in wealth, plus a few suitcases full of clothing. Lagnado’s family of six shows up in Paris with $200 and eventually manages to make its way to the shabbier neighborhoods of Brooklyn. Their relatives end up in Israel where they trade the pleasures of the city for a life of hard labor on a dusty kibbutz farm.

Many of the events in the story are sad. Babies die. Babies are sold because a family doesn’t have enough money to feed them. Italian relatives are shipped off to German death camps, never to be heard from again. The world was a much more consequential place then. Yet Lagnado’s prose is never sad and, as you might expect from a Wall Street Journal journalist, there is little fat that could be trimmed from her language.

The 870,000 Jews who were expelled from Arab countries between 1940 and 1960 are a statistic (to paraphrase Joseph Stalin); the Lagnado’s family expulsion is a lot more instructive.

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