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You can call me SL, this is about living.
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lion dance performance
San Francisco Chinatown, CA from my 2004 archive January 23, 2012 Here's to 2012 and to the Year of the Dragon! I celebrated the New Year eating dim sum with friends, while The Swede who is once again in Istanbul, went to a Hamam. While he was relaxing on hot stones getting a scrub and massage, I was running, rather sliding, around the icy sidewalks of New York City completing errands on a belly full of dim sum. When we were in Istanbul back in the fall, I made the conscious decision not to go to a Hamam, although it was highly recommended. I'm not really the "get a massage" kind of gal. But on a day like the ones we've been having, I would have willfully gone and said, "Scrub away!" Starting a new year is all about embracing new things, and I'm just going to just go ahead and embrace 2012 with open arms. If you can hear me 2012, please embrace me back and give me some love. Give everyone some love while you're at it. I think the whole world needs a big hug. All the best to you and yours in this new year. archives: Miscellaneous |
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churning the ice cream
January 19, 2012 Like many others in the whole of the world, I overindulged during the holiday season. Thanksgiving should be included in that estimate along with the days from then until Christmas, Christmas itself, and New Years. I ate freely and this past weekend was no exception. For Christmas, The Swede gave me "The Perfect Scoop" by David Lebovitz and a KitchenAid ice cream attachment. Since The Swede and I were planning to have a couples friends over for lunch, I thought this would be a great time to christen the ice cream maker. I texted my friend and asked her what were her first and second favorite ice cream flavors. I had every intention of making one of her favorites but decided on chocolate. How I came to that decision still puzzles me. Chocolate isn't my first or second favorite flavors either. But somehow while browsing the book, I kept coming back to it. And it didn't disappoint. I have to toot my own horn or David Lebovitz's or KitchenAid's because it was the silkiest ice cream I have ever tasted. Like liquid truffles or a velvety gelato. For the menu, we planned as many homemade foods as we could manage, along with good times with good people. Those foods included baguettes, ragù, spinach tagliatelle, and the ice cream. The foods not homemade were cheeses, dried and fresh fruits, nuts, salad, beer, wine, cookies from Martha's, and coffee from Philz. So you get the point, the overindulgence never ceased and my body spoke. I planned a three day detox as a penance. But I think my body knew what was to come and in protest, it got sick. And we all know the only cure for illness is homemade chocolate ice cream. With a little sea salt sprinkled on top (optional). archives: Food |
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coffee, aftermath of rhubarb pie, a Marimekko "Tantsu" tablecloth by Maija Isola
Öland, Sweden from my 2004 archive November 29, 2011 Aftermath I am going on my sixth day of eating turkey and am having a hard time getting back to normal after the holiday. The stuffing, gravy, and cinnamon ice cream were finished as of yesterday, the pumpkin pie made it until Monday, and the Brussels sprouts met their fate on Saturday. The only foods left to tackle are mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and turkey. At whatever point The Swede and I finish the turkey, we will have eaten 10 lbs of meat between the two of us. (Minus the weight of the bones, an important calculation according to The Swede.) I had zero intention of participating in any form of Black Friday, but after a visit to the New Museum, The Swede and I went into Whole Foods for lunch and came out with a one gallon beer making kit. We then found ourselves in Crate and Barrel, where I purchased a "Unikko" apron by Maija Isola, my favorite Marimekko designer, and subsequently into Sur La Table, Dean and DeLuca, Muji, and then CB2. So much for not shopping. archives: Food, Miscellaneous |
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Emma eating a duck egg
Kivik, Sweden from my 2004 archive November 24, 2011 I failed to find a photo of a turkey in my archive, so I thought a pig was the next best thing...you know, since we will all be pigging out. Happy Thanksgiving! archives: Miscellaneous |
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ginkgo tree
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive November 14, 2011 Color Fall will quickly turn into winter but for now I am savoring it and trying to live in the moment. The ginkgo trees outside my apartment are the loveliest shade of yellow that I describe as a Meyer Lemon yellow. The Swede describes them as a "lemony yellow." I once read that men and women generally describe colors differently. Men tend to be more general and women tend to be more specific. So in this instance, The Swede and I have proved the theory as correct. archives: Miscellaneous |
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limited edition Urban Swift Clyde Pumas by Hussein Chalayan
New Canaan, CT from my 2011 archive November 12, 2011 Details On a recent tour of Philip Johnson's Glass House, the guide pointed to a set of nesting ashtrays and a malachite box on the living room table. She told my group that no matter where Philip Johnson was in the house, if someone moved the ashtrays and box, he would walk over and move them back. I liked that story and made a point to store it in my memory. It gave me validation, I am the same way. Since I am not Philip Johnson, when I do similar things in my place, people look at me like I am crazy or uptight. I simply explain it as "everything has its place." Some people see the whole, I see the details. After the tour, I sat waiting for my group to finish browsing the book selection when I spotted a visitor wearing an unexpected pair of sneakers. I had just finished watching "Bill Cunningham New York" and decided to channel my inner Bill. Since I was in a small town, inside a small shop, I decided to ask the man before crouching down and snapping away at his footwear. He obliged but instantly changed his posture and began posing with his feet. Similar to the way someone's face changes when they are aware they are being photographed. I coached him to be natural, but that never works. Bill Cunningham's photo essays not only document the fashion of clothing, footwear, and accessories that are on trend in New York, his work shows other connections in his subjects as well. In one essay titled "X Factor" he comments: "The look that dominates high fashion in New York is a long stretch of leg, ankle boots and a new posture. Every era has a defining stance, and at present, it is standing with your legs crossed, like a model or a dancer en pointe." I can really appreciate that observation, and next time, I will be sure to ask the man with the Pumas to cross his legs. archives: Miscellaneous |
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interior of Murad Mosque (Murad Camii)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
interior of Yeni Mosque (Yeni Camii), commonly called New Mosque
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
interior of Sultanahmet Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii), commonly called Blue Mosque
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
interior of Nusretiye Mosque (Nusretiye Camii)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
interior of Süleymaniye Mosque (Süleymaniye Camii)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
interior of Beyazit Mosque (Beyazit Camii)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive November 9, 2011 Domes I cannot say exactly when I first fell in love with architecture, whether it happened through pictures in a book or in real life. I can say that it happened at an early age. Somewhere in my late teens, I was convinced I would one day live in a medieval castle somewhere in England. Not a Cinderella type castle, nor a haunted castle, but a happy bright one. And one with a manageable yard. I realize now that castles come with land, not yards. How that fairy tale manifested, I cannot recall. During college, my friend and I spend a summer in Europe, two months studying Environmental Design in Italy and one month backpacking around other countries on the continent. As we walked around Florence on our first night in town, we rounded the corner past the Uffizi Gallery and were instantly dwarfed by the Duomo. Never have I felt so small. And never have I been silenced in that way, I am the chatty type. I stood there with my head up, mouth open, and stared. We both did. We looked at each other, waiting for the other to say something but neither of us did. There was nothing to say. The Duomo spoke for itself. I spent that summer straining my neck and experiencing architectural feats one after another. Since that summer, it has been hard to match the architectural wonders of Italy in my travels, until Istanbul.* There is something very unique and special about cities like Florence and Istanbul where the city's history announces itself at every turn. When you look at the Istanbul skyline, your eye pans from mosque to mosque to mosque. At a quick glance they look fairly similar to one another, except for Hagia Sophia who holds her own among them. Deservingly so, she has more than 1,000 years on the next oldest mosque in the city. What surprised me most about the mosques is how different the interiors varied. Each has its own identity. Inside the mosques, I once again found myself standing with my head up, mouth open, and staring. This time I was not at a loss of words but wandered around only able to verbalize, "wow, wow, wow." Occasionally, I brought my gaze down to its normal position, fearful that I would bump into someone else, or worse, get pickpocketed. Unfortunately, that once happened to my sister here in New York City. It was actually my fault. As we walked down Madison Avenue one evening, I gestured for her to look upwards at a beautiful church. She did, and it cost her her wallet. *Three weeks, three days, and 8,549 photos later, The Swede and I are home. We have been home now for several weeks, but what happened to those days, I do not know. Somehow they have slipped by. archives: Architecture, Travel |
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doorman dressed as a werewolf
Upper East Side Manhattan, NY from my 2009 archive October 31, 2011 Happy Halloween! Costumes, pumpkin carving, school parties, trick-or-treating, pumpkin smashing, and toilet papering houses. Minus the pumpkin smashing, I left that to the teenage boys, that about sums up Halloween growing up in a small town year after year. The only costumes of mine I can recall before the age of eighteen were a pumpkin, a clown with mismatched shoes and a metallic wig, a ghost made from a sheet that was stained around the mouth from a lollipop I ate, and my own interpretation of Minnie Mouse. None of them were very good, handmade by me with very limited resources. I always dreaded the question, "What are you?" I envied the other kids in their store bought, easy to decipher costumes. The Swede loves Halloween. One year, he decided to join friends at a party at the last minute. I went out to run errands, and he stayed home to make a quick costume. Several hours later, I returned to a seven foot bottle of "Two Buck Chuck", sewn from industrial grade green felt, complete with label, in my living room. He ended up winning "Best Fabrication" in the costume contest and was gifted with a pen that has the video game Tetris attached to the top. The bottle costume is long gone, but the cheap pen remains. We have never used it as a pen but have spent hours squinting and playing Tetris on a 1 1/8 inch x 1 1/4 inch monitor (yes, I measured it). archives: Miscellaneous |
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pigeons in front of The New Mosque (Yeni Camii)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
boy proudly holding a captured pigeon on top of the City Walls in Edirnekapi
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
pigeons in Taksim Square
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
pigeons roosting on The Column of Constantine (Çemberlitas Sütunu)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive 
pigeons at Topkapi Palace (Topkapi Sarayi)
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive October 20, 2011 Pigeons Many urban dwellers equate pigeons to rats, referring to them as "rats with wings." Pigeons like rodents and roaches are adaptable, resilient, pesky, and have the ability to survive severe conditions. I have come to feel more affection for pigeons than I have in the past, but to say that I really like them is a stretch. I see them as another entity in the background of urban life, similar to taxis, shouting persons, or fire truck sirens. More despised on my list are seagulls. (Years ago, one actually had the audacity to swoop down, brush my shoulder, and take a bite from my ice cream cone, while I stood observing sea lions at Pier 39 in San Francisco. My fingers remained intact but my cone did not and that annoyed me. It had been Häagen-Dazs. Unforgiveable.) The people of Istanbul seem to embrace, rather than reject the massive flocks of pigeons that congregate on and around every major monument. Pigeon feed is sold and purchased outside many mosques and buildings noticeably lack anti-roosting spikes. Mary Poppins and the song and scenes from "Feed the Birds" runs through my mind and so does the threat of being hit by pigeon poop. Italians say it is good luck to get pooped on, and my brother-in-law once received a dose of "good luck" while we waited to get a glimpse of Pope John Paul II in Saint Peter's Square in Rome. My brother-in-law thought it was double the luck, being christened by a "papal pigeon." archives: Miscellaneous, Travel |
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Artist Unknown
Istanbul, Turkey from my 2011 archive October 12, 2011 Street Art continued... Surprisingly, there is very little Street Art in Istanbul. I imagined beautiful stylized patterns and Arabic script. A complete naive fantasy. Nevertheless, for a major urban city, I would expect a lot more graffiti. The little amount of graffiti I have seen seems to be done by a handful of artists. This Istanbul version of "The Eye" is not exceptionally skillful, but the artist is committed to it which I respect. It is a bit fun and happy with its accentuated eyelashes and whimsical line quality. I found it in abundance on a quaint sloping cobblestone street that focuses on selling musical instruments. Taking an early morning walk gave me an opportunity to see the work on various roll gates that would otherwise be hidden during shopping hours. archives: Street Art, Travel |
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