May 17, London: And Then There Were Two

Hey Everyone!
I'm currently sitting in my flat in Istanbul- and I can't tell you how incredible it is. I would put up pictures but I'm just too tired; hopefully tomorrow. In order to satisfy what I'm sure is an insatiable need to know about my trip, though, I will put up the jumbled post I wrote on Word, in Heathrow at about 4:30 this afternoon. Check back for pics (the view from the terrace is truly panoramic- I guess that'll be my 'why Turkey' moment of the day) sometime in the next day or two.

I’m writing from London’s Heathrow Airport, where I’ve been for the past 6 hours; I may have no idea what’s going on at this point, I can’t really tell. It’s been more eventful than one might think. The point is, one of my friends (Edward, for those of you keeping track at home) has a passport that went through the laundry a year or so ago. It worked fine in Washington, and they let him through in London, but warned that it might not be accepted in Turkey. If it wasn’t accepted (50% chance, they said), he would deported, sent straight back to Washington. He was going to risk it until word came from Professor Shields in Istanbul that if his passport was rejected, before he was deported, he would be sent for 24 hours to a Turkish prison. Turkey has made great strides in almost all areas of society: jails and the protection of prisoners is not one of them. Needless to say, he’ll be staying in London until Monday, when (hopefully) the US embassy here will give him an emergency passport and he can join us in Istanbul.

The biggest event of the day so far has been the fish and chips, which should tell you something about my excitement level at this point. Kristina and I chose for our lunch a place called Garfunkle’s, our only criteria being that fish and chips was on the menu, which we both ordered. I decided to also get a Stella Artois, both in honor of my dad and in defiance of US law (whose swift hand will surely be upon me as soon as I reenter the country). When the waiter brought it, he also brought a half glass of some sweet, clear liquid (see diagram below):

I called my dad in a panic, a call which will cost me, at the most of conservative estimates, approximately $24,000. After a minute and a half I realized this, and hung up in mid-conversation, still confused about what to do. When the waiter brought the fish and chips, I finally broke down and asked what the hell I had ordered. Apparently, in saying Stella Artois twice, I had said ‘top’, which meant that I wanted a small glass of lemonade with my beer?? The kind gentleman assured me I should mix the two drinks, a process which yielded one of the most disgusting things I have ever tried to imbibe. Also, the English, in their infinite culinary wisdom, have decided to invent a dish called ‘mashed peas’, which is just as disgusting as it sounds. I ate this item only to join the Clean Plate Club. Kristina’s application to that august body was, as the pictures attest, rejected outright.

What's that, Kristina? You'd like to join the Clean Plate Club?? The mashed peas on your plate beg to differ.

Goodnight!!