Weekend with Nana, Grami and Grampis

Dennis is in Vegas defending his Beer Pong World Championship title, so Little Sweetie is sans Mommy AND Daddy. And this after Dennis taught her to say, “Isabelle and Daddy are a team!” I know she’s having a fantastic weekend--Friday night with Nana and Grampi in Falmouth, last night in CT with Grami and Grampi, and today she's visiting Auntie Bonnie and Uncle Michael and seeing her cousins RJ, Lexi and Ethan—and later today she's heading back to the Cape.

Month by Month

For the first time since Isabelle was born, one of her monthly “birthdays” has passed without any fanfare. In fact, March 22nd came and went without so much as a mention of it being her 19 month birthday, and it wasn’t until three days later—when someone asked me how old she was—that I even realized. There are so many things in life that you always do… and then, one day, you never do them anymore. When was the last night Isabelle slept in her bassinet? When was the last time we used her little plastic bathtub? When was her last swing in the baby swing? Most of the time, the “last time” comes and goes, and you don’t even realize. I understant that it happens, but it feels like a loss. I loved celebrating her monthly birthdays.

Isabelle Updates in Afghanistan

I love getting my "Isabelle happenings" fix from Dennis while here in Kabul. After a full week of being together all the time, Isabelle is showing a big spike in her verbal skills. Apparently, she's telling everyone, "Mommy's in Afghanistan," and (becuase of the 8.5 hour time difference) "Mommy sleeps during the day." Another one of my favorites: Isabelle walked out of the bathroom and then poked her little head back in and said to Dennis, "I'll be right back." Too cute. I miss you, Baby Cakes!

A Poem From Turkey

More Apple Tea

When you are traveling
You drink apple tea
Chase Istanbul pigeons
And face the Marmara Sea

On Grand Bazaar children
You lavish hugs and kisses
"Teh-ka" is your thank you
For Turkish delights so delicious

You are the dervish
Whose whirls capture our hearts
"Shhh... Baby sleeping in the bed"
Just as the Sufi music starts

Asking "Where'd kitty go?"
Over the Bosphorous you ride
From Europe to Asia
Eating cimiks on the deck outside

With almost nine little fingers
And ten little toes
Strawberry hands at Sultanahmet Mosque
Attract a carriage horse's nose

"Look! Barbie on holiday!"
We hear walking down the street
As you wave to every tram
And find clementines to eat

But nothing is sweeter
Than your plea for more apple tea
"More please, more please
And Cheers - Mommy, Daddy!"

Isabelle and Daddy’s big day of travel

Unfortunately the Istanbul trip has to end… and even more unfortunately, the 21 hour trip back won’t include Mommy, as she has to leave from Istanbul for Kabul. So it is just Isabelle and Daddy making the big trip. It starts with an 11 hour flight (did I mention the hour+ delay on the tarmac?)

Beth saw us off to the airport, and even waited in line at Passport Control with us. We briefly thought she would be able to enter the terminal with Isabelle and me, but at the last second she was denied. So it was a sudden good-bye...

Isabelle is, for every flight she has taken or will take until she is two, a “Lap Baby”. This means her flight is free (domestic flights) or close to free (we pay taxes only for international flights), but we are taking a gamble on getting a seat. Fortunately, for this long flight direct from Istanbul to JFK, the gamble pays off – the seat next to me is open! Isabelle gets her own seat! Unfortunately Delta doesn’t give “Lap Babies” a meal… so Daddy sacrifices his meal for the greater good.

The entire flight is during the day – we leave at 11am local time, arrive at 5PM local time. Isabelle seems to realize it is an extended day, and takes full advantage of it by not sleeping! She has plenty of friends to play with on the flight – the row ahead of us has a 22 month old baby, and Isabelle actually spends some time on that mother’s lap reading books. The row behind us has a 3 month old, Daniel, and Isabelle repeatedly looks back, points to each of them, with a knowing, “Daniel! Daniel’s Mommy! Daniel’s Daddy!”. Two rows back of that, another father traveling alone with his 2 year old. Here I was thinking I was up for daddy of the year…

At JFK we go through Passport Control. Isabelle is wired! She keeps saying "I walk! I walk!". The stroller might as well not exist. So I put her down... and she immediately takes off in a full sprint - right through Passport Control to the other side! I of course have not yet been stamped (nor has she). Fortunately the people working there were great, and didn't give me a hard time when I (repeatedly) had to go get her!

At JFK we transfer to a shuttle flight to Boston. As for all our flights, for some reason we are the last ones to get on the plane. This is not on purpose... it just seems to work out that way! There is no empty seat next to us. The flight attendant finds an empty row in the back of the plane, and offers it up to us, but I just look at her, exhausted, and say thanks, I think we are OK. I simply didn't have the energy to move. The two of us finally get a little sleep during the short (35 min) flight back to Boston. Isabelle fell asleep before we took off, and stayed asleep until after landing.

We thought we were so cool with our parking! We parked in Terminal E’s quick lot – steps from Customs Control! So leaving, even with a sleepy baby and way to many bags, should be a breeze, right? OOPS – we flew in from JFK on Delta, so we arrive at Terminal A. Fortunately there is a walkway between the two terminals. As a kicker, I lost my parking stub. I guess they see this happen regularly, as it didn’t faze the attendant at all.

Fun at the Blue Mosque!

Whirl, Baby, Whirl!

Breakfast is replaced with a swim, and we are all famished when we arrive at Upper Crust for lunch! Yes, THE Upper Crust of Beacon Hill/Back Bay fame. A chance meeting with Melissa who works with Marina Kalb and Kristina Lyons at Portobello Road in Chestnut Hill is the reason we are here. Melissa's boyfriend, Barry, is helping to open Turkey's first Upper Crust Pizzeria, and this is just the second day they are serving customers. Today's special is buffalo chicken pizza with fresh blue cheese - half that, half cheese - and we are in heaven!

Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk! It is so much fun being outside together enjoying the sun, and discovering new parts of the city. After visiting a beautiful mosque on the Bosphorus shore, we go on a sight-seeing cruise. Istanbul is a city that must be taken in from the water, too, and highlights include the great fortress of Rumeli Hisari that was built by Sultan Mehmet the Conqueror at the narrowest part of the river in order to stage his siege of Constantinople in 1453; and Beylerbeyi Palace, a "small" summer palace on the Anatolian side of the river.

We're not hungry but we are so fascinated by kumpir that we must try one. Kumpir is best described as a crazy-ass baked potato, filled with everything from corn, olives, sausage slices, pickles, mayonnaise, ketsup, mushrooms, peas, Russian salad, and kasar cheese. They're wrapped in an aluminum foil bowl, and taste about as good as they sound (not that much). But people are lining up in droves to eat them! We found 10 identical kumpir vendors lined up side-by-side.

Isabelle was more inclined to have a dondurma (ice cream) cone, and let me just say they really know how to serve ice cream in Istanbul. A small really is small - which is a perfect little scoop that fits neatly on top of the cone without tipping over or making you feel as if you've just eaten a 5-course meal. Unable to decide if she liked her vanilla or Daddy's caramel, Isabelle opted for equal licks of both!

With a bit more wandering, we find antique furniture stores - but not the kind that are selling $15,000 urns like the other day! These are of the old 1980's TV stand variety, and we find a spectacular carved wooden chair hoisted on top of a broken down refrigerator. A couple of phone calls and a trip to the ATM later, and we're stuffing the chair into the back of a taxi with no idea how we plan to get it home. That question is only answered once Dennis is "kidnapped" by UPS and pays them triple the cost of the chair to get it home.

Tonight's the night we'd been waiting for! The whirling dervish show!! Sufi whirling is not really supposed to be entertainment (but I'm glad it is in Turkey!), it's the practice of the Mevlevi Order and is a physical way of trying to teach religious ecstasy. Rumi was a whirling dervish and taught about humans being created by love in order to love, "All loves are a bridge to divine love. Yet,
those who have not had a taste of it do not know!"

When I was a little girl, I had a pink fuzzy housecoat with a pointy hood. When I'd wear it and spin around, my Mom called me her whirling dervish. That made me whirl all the more! Now we had tickets to see one in real life! The performance was in a very cool location - a converted Turkish bath dating back 550 years. What was not so cool is that they didn't want Isabelle inside ("No babies!"), and only after we promised to leave if she made noise did they let us in. Our forced seating near the door turned out to be the perfect location for filming - also perfect for our frequent trips outside! In an effort to keep Isabelle quiet, I'd say "Shhhh... we have to pretend baby is sleeping" which would only prompt Isabelle to say (a bit more loudly) "Shhhhh... Baby sleeping in the bed." It was hilarious. Much to our surprise the dervishes did not come right out and start whirling madly!! The program started slowly with Sufi music and no dervishes at all! Bring on the dervishes, we cried inside!!! Finally, the dervishes arrived, but their whirls aren't all that whirly at first! Whirl, dervishes, whirl!!!

The first part of the ceremony is The Sema, which represents a spiritual journey; the seeker's turning toward God and truth, a maturing through love, the transformation of self as a way of union with God, and the return to life as the servant of all creation. The dervish (or Semazen) wears a camel's-felt hat representing a tombstone of the ego (I bought one to display in the house); and a wide, white skirt symbolizing the ego's shroud.

We leave a little early, realizing that we have the best whirling dervish show right in front of us! It is walking down Hudavendigar Street that Isabelle gets her first taste of the funny dizzy sensation when the twirling stops. Wobbling side-to-side she breaks out in uncontrollable giggles as we keep her upright.

Next first: Isabelle's first hooka bar experience. (No, we're not even tempted to have one in front of her - and we stay in side room where no one else is smoking them either.) We sit on the floor on huge, colorful pillows, and Isabelle jumps from one to the next as she is served fresh clementines. Every time she takes her last bite of one, she brings her empty plate to the waitress and says, "More clementines, please." Once, another waiter tried to trick her with an orange which she ripped apart and threw in various directions. Four clementines later, dinner is done!

We wrap up the day as we started - with a swim. Except this time it's harder to get Isabelle in the pool because the keys to the lockers have become her greatest source of joy. When she finally does go in the pool, she orders us both out, and attempts to jump in on her own. We love her spirit of independence, but that just isn't going to happen!

More Turkey Talk

Our private tour around Istanbul's Old City is incredible. At the Sultanahmet Camii (Blue Mosque) Isabelle is very concerned about removing her shoes, and clutches them tightly the entire time we are inside. The mosque was built in 1615, and unlike Hagia Sophia which is a museum now, the Blue Mosque is still an active mosque. I enter the women's prayer area and am amused by the sign that reads: "Please keep your handbag close during prayer."

Inside Hagia Sophia (meaning Divine Wisdom) we take in the stunning Christian and Islamic decorations that are side by side. Haiga Sophia was a church for a thousand years, before all the icons were .... , minarets were built and it was converted to a mosque. We walk through the white marble Gates of Paradise - and it'll be as easy the next time around!

A cute leather and fur vest being sold by a street vendor gives Isabelle a more Byzantine look for the rest of the day. And helps her forget out the horse/finger "incident." Her fingers were still a little sticky from the strawberry jam at breakfast, and the carriage horse outside Hagia Sophia thought that smelled like a pretty tasty snack and bit her! No skin was broken, but there was a tooth mark on her middle finger.

We're wondering how we'll ever get her back in a car seat. She squeals with delight every time the car stops and we're off on our next little adventure.

I'm fascinated by City Walls - and we spend some time running back and forth from one of the old entrances. Equally spectacular are the enormous radishes (red, white and black) being sold by the farmer who keeps his garden alongside the City Walls. They're the size of grapefruits, and although a little less juicy than the radishes I'm used to, they're delicious.

We have lunch at Ziya's in Fatih, the most fundamentalist neighborhood in Istanbul. Their sign says "fast food," but we learn that "fast food" here means a homemade ready-cooked meal! We have raw spicy meatball - to die for good - and a salad with pomegranate sauce. After that I have one mission in life: find pomegranate vinaigrette! We do, at the Spice Market.

I've decided we have enough things hanging on our walls, and I'd like to start buying furniture on our trips. Our tour guide is surprised we're opting to go furniture shopping over visiting Topeki Palace, but she rises to the challenge. In so doing, though, she seriously overestimates our financial means, and at the antique shops she takes us, the items I like range from $3,000 to $15,000.

While I'm trying not to spend Isabelle's college fund, she and Dennis devise a new game of Full Speed Leap. It goes like this - Dennis sits on the ground while Isabelle runs as fast as she can and then leaps into his arms.

A girl who expends that much energy needs a little pick me up! And what better than Turkish Delights! She definitely has Dad's sweet tooth - and as the Delight is moving from her hand to her mouth she starts asking for more. Asking becomes increasing harder, though, as her cheeks fill with these starch and sugar treats.

Isabelle fell in love for the first time tonight - with our waiter at Adamar Hotel's panoramic restaurant - most incredible views of the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia. "Oh, Isabelle is in the kitchen again," Dennis would say everytime she'd disappear with our waiter.


She wants to "walk" all the way home - but keeps falling to her knees and laughs hysterically as we keep pulling her. She falls asleep ın 30 seconds--maybe 10. best baby ever.

Day Three Turkey

Realıty check. It ıs not possıble to walk from Europe to Asıa! No pedestrıans (or tractors) are allowed on eıther the Bosphorous Brıdge or the Fatih Brıdge - too many suıcıdes they tell us. Instead, we take a boat to Kodıkoy and hold up our sıgns as we are approachıng land. (We dıdn't go to Uskudar because a new tunnel ıs beıng buılt and theır port ıs a mess wıth constructıon rıght now.) In Asıa we buy prayer beads from an old man (memory tree!) and Isabelle tries to move ın to a cardboard box wıth a kitten.
We then take a crazy taxi rıde to Mıniaturk - neither the map nor GPS seem capable of helping us get there. Even though it's the world's largest miniature park - it's still a miniature park! So, it's a little bit silly walking around all the mini models of the great Turkish and Anatolian monuments.

We thınk it wıll be a fun place for Isabelle to run around - and there's a little train for kids to ride that seems fun. But... the train wasn't running and all the monuments are hands-off. And there went my dream of capturing a picture of Isabelle climbing the Blue Mosque like King Kong! But there is a great little playground, and Isabelle laughs uncontrollably as she enjoys her first seesaw ride as we watch the sun set.

Dinner at Tas Hause (Stone House) wraps up the day. The manager there was the one who shouted, "Barbie on holiday!" as Isabelle walked down the street. During dinner the owner tells us we look familiar and wonders if we'd ever eaten at Turkish Cuisine, the restaurant he owned in midtown Manhattan for years. We hadn't - but we'll check it out next time we're in the city!

Day Two Turkey

The tramlıne ıs rıght outsıde our hotel. "Bye, bus! Bye, bus!" Isabelle yells whenever she sees ıt, wavıng to the people ınsıde. We take the traın over the Golden Horn to Taksım. Up and down the maın thoroughfare, there are men roastıng chestnuts, and Isabelle wants to stop at every vendor. They all gıve her a chestnut, and refuse any money for ıt. Everywhere we go people rave about Taksım - but we dıdn't really get ıt. We lıked that ıt wasn't tourısty, but... other than watchıng kıds hop on the back of the trolley and thınkıng ıt looked lıke somethıng out of the 1930s, we were happy to leave.

We got out of the taxi near the Spıce Market and then walked and walked and walked and walked and walked. We dıdn't really know where we were goıng whıch was perfect for dıscoverıng the cıty and seeıng thıngs we never would've seen otherwıse. It was so much fun. At a small, crowded musıc store we were fortunate to fınd the owner doing some paperwork and having a smoke. He said he's typıcally closed on Sundays. Dennis mentioned that we are typically not in Istanbul on Sundays! We bought a kemence, an elongated pear-shaped instrument that's played in Turkish classical music and folk music throughout the Black Sea region.

"Look! Barbie on vacation!" we heard walking down the street. Men here - even more so than the women - are drawn to babies. They squeeze Isabelle's cheek, brush their hands underneath her chin, and pick her up. There's no asking - they just do it!

After a dıp ın our pool and many games of hıde-and-go-seek around the pool's hıdden cove, we head upstaırs to the hotel's 5-star restaurant for dınner. It was a specıal meal sıppıng wıne and talkıng, and we hatch our grand plan for tomorrow: We are stayıng on the Europe sıde of Istanbul and decıde that we should walk across the Bosphorous Brıdge to the Asıan sıde. We want Isabelle to be able to say that the first time she went to Asia she walked there. How many people can say that?? We get out the magic markers and Isabelle helps make two sıgns: 1. Leavıng Europe
2. Merhaba Asıa! We go to sleep fantasızıng that we'll fınd momos dırectly across the brıdge, too!

Taking Our Little Turkey to Turkey!

DAY ONE

Our trıp to Istanbul ıs off to quıte a start! My passport arrıved from the Afghan Embassy just hours before our flıght - and not wıthout all sorts of drama that ıncluded FedEx pıckup and drop off debacles and phony pıck up schedulıng. I always thınk At the Alıtalıa tıcket counter ın Logan's Termınal E, we learn that I sabelle's lap seat tıcket has to ıssued by Delta ın Termınal A. We make a mad dash there, then return to Alıtalıa to fınısh checkıng all our bags. Suddenly, most of our buılt ın extra tıme has vanıshed. Rather than the calm sıt down dınner we had envısıoned, we scarf down a pıece of pızza and determıne we have at least 10 more mınutes before boardıng - enough tıme to grab a few newspapers and magazınes. Halfway to Hudson News, a look of panıc washes over Dennıs' face - Where's the other bag? he asks. What bag? The one I last envısıoned at securıty after haulıng ıt up onto the belt. The one wıth every dıaper, wıpe, snack and book for Isabelle on the flıght. It must stıll be at securıty. But they can't seem to fınd ıt.

As we head back to the food court to double check, a polıceman ıs walkıng toward us -German shepherd ın one hand, my rollıng green bag ın the other. "We had to evacuate the store near where ıt was left," he tells us. We determıne we have 2 mınutes left before boardıng - stıll enough tıme to pıck up some readıng materıal. But as we turn on our heels to head back to the store, thıs announcement comes over the loudspeakers, "Thıs wıll serve as the last boardıng call for Alıtalıa Flıght 604 to Rome for passenger Murphy. Dennıs Murphy. Passenger Murphy. Beth Murphy. If you do not board the plane now, your baggage will be removed from the airplane." The full sprınt ıs on.

The flıght ıs full and we are seated ın an exıt row - not allowed wıth Baby Cakes. They settle us ın to two seats ın a row of four rıght next to the bathroom, and we accept that thıs ıs the best that we can do. So much for pre-boardıng. We post-boarded! Isabelle slept most of the fırst leg - woke up for our four hours ın Rome -and then fell asleep whıle we were stıll on the runway ın Rome and dıdn't wake up untıl we landed at Attaturk Internatıonal. It was ıncredıble.

When we arrıve at the Hotel Orıent Express (a hotel we selected because they have an awesome underground pool), we were ımmedıately exposed to the Turkısh love for babıes! Whıle Dennıs and I were offered hot apple tea. Isabelle was presented wıth a cooler versıon. The small glass cups are perfect for her lıttle hands, and around sıp three, she lıfted her glass toward mıne - "Cheers, Mommy." Cheers, ındeed! And the room ıtself offered all sorts of excıtement - beepıng buttons on the safe, a low bed easy for clımbıng and jumpıng, and a phone wıthın reachıng dıstance. Off to the Grand Bazaar! In Turkish, Grand Bazaar is Kapali Carsi which means Covered Market - and with more than 4,000 shops it's one of the largest markets in the world. Built in the 15th century, it's also one of the oldest.

Isabelle fell asleep on Dennıs' shoulder there and then slept most of the way through our dınner at the Hamdı Restaurant - recommended by our hotel, and we just bumped ınto ıt after walkıng out Grand Bazaar's exıt 18 and makıng our way through the Spıce Market. It ıs at the Hamdı where we fall ın love wıth the lentıl soup here - usually whıte beans (even when the menu says red lentıl), sometımes red, but never brown.

In an unbelıevable stroke of luck there ıs a toy shop next to the restaurant. And there was no way to mıss them - the seven globes lıned up along a shelf ın the back of the store. Seven! Could one possıbly be ın Turkısh? Every sıngle one ıs. I can't belıeve we found Isabelle's newest globe on Day One! We had some fun wıth thıs one - buyıng the one wıth blue water and pınk contınents. After dınner we meet Wafa who ıs dressed as a sultan and ushers us ın to hıs bar. In between chasıng the kıtty upstaırs, Isabelle sıps her fresh pomegranate juıce and eats slıces of banana topped wıth honey and walnuts.

The Obama Craze

Obama. It's a name designed for babies. Every sound - Oh, Ba, Ma - is among the first uttered by any infant. But we had more than the sounds going for us - and we were excited that Isabelle seemed to have a firm grasp on recognizing our new president. She would wag her little finger at her Obama children's books and every magazine cover. Then we went for a dip in the Holiday Inn pool where a dark-skinned Indian father was playing with his two children. "Obama! Obama! Obama!" Isabelle began yelling. Fortunately, since these sounds are so recognizable among small children, the man thought she was calling for Ma Ma. I dutifully rushed to her side to support this!

In other Isabelle news:

Last night she burped in the middle of dinner and quickly (and unprompted) said, "Excuse me."

Every scratch, pimple, red spot on her or anyone else elicits this reaction: "Kitty got you!" Still practicing her pronouns, we sometimes hear - "Kitty got you - ME!" Even the nurse heard this after giving her shots at the 18-month check up.

Speaking of the doctor's visit, Isabelle has new stats: At 33.5" and 26lbs, she is 97% height and 75% weight.