Tag Archives: Photography

Outdoors, Seattle

Wild

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We wake up early. We tie into our ropes. We set up camp. Rain or shine.

We practice tying-in. We practice our ice axe arrest. We eat and drink and make a camp fire. We get in our tents early, to do it again.

In the early morning–or the late, late night–the snow is still hard, and safer for travel. People rouse. Tents glow. Head lamps emerge.

We tie into our ropes. Our fingers, our bodies, are still cold. And then we climb.

Dawn follows up the hill, in shades of blue.

Why?

Sometimes the wilderness is too big for words.

Snow Camp at Stevens Pass

Zilla in Glacier Goggles

Climbing Harness, Webbing and Prusiks

Ice Axe and Prusiks

Tents in the Snow

The Kitchen

Rain on the TentInside the TentSnow Camp 2013-7Tying in with a Figure Eight KnotA fixed LineCampfireTent at Night

Tent at Night

Alpine StartAlpine Start-Roped inClimbing

Breaking Camp and Packed Up

Run to the Car

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Red and Delicious

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Istanbul, Turkey

In the windows, in the shops, there are round red fruits with stems that look like lips, in a pucker. They are made of ceramic.

I point.  Zilla nods. “They used to fill them with rubies, to represent the seeds.”

I don’t know if this is true, but I like to imagine.

In the crates, in front of the stalls, the real red fruits are cut open, the seeds in shapes like henna on a hand.

I point. The man behind the counter nods.

He reaches for a pomegranate and slices it open. Several rubies fall out.

Quickly, he brushes them to the floor.

He puts the fruit in his juice press and pulls down the lever. Pure color drips out.

I hand him a lira.

He hands me the cup.

It is cold but his hand is warm.

Raspberries, sweet corn. Or pomegranate.

Maybe I have never tasted pomegranate before.

In the window, my lips are red.  So were his fingers.

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Call to Prayer

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The call to prayer in the still-dark Istanbul morning reminded me of Sri Lanka. I got out of bed and stood on the balcony. There was nothing to see but lights on Istanbul’s Asian bank and the ships moving across the Bosporus. The voice called again and I felt cold. But also warm.

“What are you doing?” Z asked, propping up on one elbow.

“Listening,” I said.

“Can you listen with the door shut? It’s cold.”

*

One day years ago, I was stuck in traffic on the 520 Bridge that connects Seattle to The East Side. To the south: rough water, and Mt. Rainier. To the north the water was as smooth as a bath tub. A call like I’d just heard came over the radio, followed by an NPR voice. At the time I’d thought the story was fantastic: Turkish Imams were called in for voice training based on neighborhood complaints on their calls to prayer. While they were gone the voice teacher gave the mosque a tape of his call to prayer to play morning, noon, and night. The question, the NPR voice asked, was whether the Imams returning from voice school were still playing the recording and sleeping-in in the morning.

Of course they wanted to sleep in, I’d thought. But now, shivering, I felt they could not but want to be awake.

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I am sure we will not go hungry…

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Z and I are leaving Friday, which as I write this I realize, is tomorrow. Luckily, Friday evening.  We are going to Sri Lanka and Istanbul with a few days in London in between to see Z’s cousins and their new baby, eat at The Quality Chop House and show Z Borough Market.

I’m also hoping to eat at my friend Cristiano’s new food truck Tongue N’ Cheek—which might be the best name ever for a salumi venture. (And cutest website.) The name also describes Cristiano perfectly.

So we fly from Seattle (tomorrow! today?) to London, for a day, and then to Sri Lanka. We’ll meet Amma (it’s her birthday) at Katunayake Airport and from there, go visit Z’s grandmother and cousins.  One of his cousins is due that very day, with twins! She asked the doctor to delay the delivery so the twin’s birthday would coincide with Amma’s. We shall see.

So Z and I will spend two days visiting with all of them and then head down the coast, for a few days at the beach.  We’re going to stay at a bungalow in Tangalle that comes with a cook!

From Tangalle we will head back up country to Kandy, where Z grew up, and spend our second week at home. On the last day, we will be preparing a dane for the monks at the Peridnyia University Temple in honor of his father’s life.  It is a kind of ritual offering; we’ll be cooking the kinds of things Thaththa liked to eat.

The day after the dane we fly back to London and then after an airport overnight, to Istanbul. Which is very exciting.   I was the one that wanted to go there and now we are on our way.

We are not yet sure where we’ll be staying the first few days. We signed up for Servas, a homestay organization I heard about from a friend  and are waiting to see  if any of the families we contacted in Instanbul get back to us. My greedy hope was to do some Turkish home cooking!

Whatever happens, we’ll spend seven nights in Istanbul, I’m sure eating and exploring. I’ve been reading the blogs Café Fernando and Istanbul Eats for ideas. Rose petal jam, real shish kebab, lokum, yogurt from the place yogurt was born. I am sure I will not go hungry.

Then back to London and, finally, home.  And now, back to packing.