The Beauty of the Ballet

It’s possible to travel across oceans and back in time without ever leaving your city – back to the wonder of childhood or to a velvet seat in pre-Revolutionary Russia. Such is the power of the ballet.

Ballerina and girl before NYCB’s The Nutcracker at the Lincoln Centre

The Nutcracker was the first ballet I ever saw, at the Centennial Concert Hall on snowy Main Street. I marvelled at the gorgeous chandelier, the rich sound of the familiar score played live, the fairy-tale characters and the incredible human form.

Some time spent in Russia was a great way to see and learn more. Saint Petersburg’s Mariinsky, or Kirov, Ballet, has such control and precision with Swan Lake, with an incredible 32 ballerina swans on stage for the Waltz. Moscow’s State Kremlin Palace is a triumph of Soviet architecture, and a ticket for the Kremlin Ballet includes entry for a pre-performance stroll of the grounds. The Bolshoi Theatre (now in its 237th season) is where, in 1944, it was the audience members Stalin and Churchill who received a standing ovation.

Ballet puts you in the same seat as tsars and princesses, and a few weeks ago I was thrilled to take mine for The Sleeping Beauty. I settled back to enjoy the same music by Pyotr Tchaikovsky and choreography by Marius Petipa as the audience at the premiere 123 years ago. Danced by my hometown Royal Winnipeg Ballet, it was bright, colourful and full of joy. I was frightened by the actions of Carabosse, relieved by the saving grace of the Lilac Fairy, and delighted by the antics of Puss in Boots and the Bluebird. Principal dancer Jo-Ann Sundermeier‘s Aurora smiled throughout the entire two-hour plus showtime, which was over all too soon. The packed house was on its feet, but the thunderous applause and wolf whistles were still insufficient to express our gratitude for the magic we just witnessed.

What is your favourite ballet?

Schipol Stopover

buckets of tulips in the airport

I always love when my itinerary includes a few hours to change planes at Amsterdam-Schipol Airport. There’s never enough time to head for the city, but Holland-Boulevard offers something more than a generic airport transfer.

The first stop should be Dutch Kitchen. They feature local products and cuisine, such as a hot farmhouse-style egg sandwich on thick bread and a cup of Van Houtte coffee. My favourites are the tiny puffs of poffertjes dusted with sugar and freshly pressed Zeeland apple appelsap. It can all be enjoyed at an oversized wooden table while admiring the display of blue and white Delft pottery, taking advantage of free wifi, and listening to the final boarding calls for the four corners of the earth.

Next is the free annex of the newly-renovated in real-life Rijksmuseum. Ten or more original paintings are displayed up a short flight of stairs. These works of Dutch masters in dark oils with small jewels of colour are carefully chosen to illuminate representative themes such as still life, exploration or skating, with interpretive panels in Dutch and English. The museum giftshop at the bottom of the stairs has magnets, cards, and other souvenirs that replicate famous works of art from the Museum’s main collection.

It all adds up to feel like an actual mini-trip to the Netherlands. As I run for the next flight, I think how lovely it would be to stay longer next time — and perhaps even to get out of the airport.

The Museum of Innocence / Masumiyet Müzesi

The first time I went to Istanbul was because of a book. The Museum of Innocence is a novel about a museum in which each item plays a part in an incredible love story as told to Orhan Pamuk. In the ultimate tie-in, it is also an actual museum and an incredible testament to the creativity of Turkish Nobel Prize laureate Orhan Pamuk.

On first reading I was so captivated by the exotic descriptions — swimming in the Bosphorus, staying in a yalı on the Asian side, walking the chestnut tree-lined avenues of Nişantaşı and especially the twisty turny streets of Beyoğlu — that I booked a ticket to Istanbul with the first chance I got. I quickly fell in love with the real city and its people, but on my last day I couldn’t resist trying to locate The Museum of Innocence as shown on the map in the first pages of the book. It was a great walk through Çukurcuma, but I couldn’t stop laughing when all I found was an old junk shop.

This is not The Museum of Innocence

Or so I thought. Towards the end of 2012 articles appeared about the opening of a museum. I couldn’t believe it and couldn’t wait to add a stop there on my next trip to the city.

The museum was just a block past where I had looked for it the first time. We were glad to have our books in hand as we got in for free with the ticket printed in the final pages. It was also helpful to refer to the book as each case on two floors is meticulously organized by chapter, with all the items discussed therein displayed. It brings both the story and 1970s Istanbul to vivid life, with quotes, clippings, pictures, spoons, clocks, maps, china dogs, a dress, a driver’s license and many preserved glasses of çay and rakı, among other things.

Further blurring the line between fact and faction, the top storey is the narrator’s bedroom, just as in the book. Also displayed there are some original manuscript pages with long-sighted sketches for the displays. Mostly written in the Reading Room at the New York Public Library over a ten-year period, Orhan Pamuk also worked on Istanbul: Memories and the City during this time. The memoir is illustrated from the archives of the famous Turkish photographer Ara Güler, a process which undoubtedly enriched the scenes and descriptions in The Museum of Innocence.

a ticket to the Museum of Innocence is printed in the book and stamped on arrival

Allow about an hour to visit. Copies of the book are available throughout in Turkish, English and German, but it’s worth taking yours to save the 15/25 TL entrance fee. A charming bookshop on the bottom level has affordable, quality posters, postcards and other souvenirs as well as copies of all the books in several languages.

The Museum of Innocence is a tremendous creative acheivement. Read the book, visit the museum, and start your own love story with the city that inspired it all.

SALT Galata

There is no sign for SALT Galata — just look for the small number 11 plate on the building on Bankalar Caddesi.

This calm oasis is very conveniently located down the stairs from the Galata Tower. A daytime hike up from the Galata Bridge or Karaköy ferry is a great way to appreciate the contrast between the colorful lanes of rope shops, wheel shops, anchor shops and other boating supply shops and the gorgeous space of the former Ottoman Bank.

It’s hard to decide where to look: up to the soaring decorated ceiling or out the two-storey window to take in the view.

The library and museum are permanent; the exhibition space downstairs currently features the  mesmerizing, geographically arranged video installation “1+8” on life at and over Turkey’s borders.

Stop in at the carefully edited bookshop and then head across the hallway to lovely Ca’ d’Oro. Interestingly, the café’s 6.5 TL fresh juice costs 9TL when enjoyed with the view of the Golden Horn from the restaurant upstairs.

The building, view, exhibits, bookshop, café and restaurant plus sparklingly modern public washrooms (and all for free!) make SALT Galata an essential stop on any visit to this historic part of Istanbul!

below: street with boat supply shops (courtesy of  Bust it Away Photography); Ca’ d’Oro with suspended staircase and personal library

boat supply shops

You can go back

The flight path took us down the Black Sea coast, over the toy tankers to the sparkling blue Bosphorus and then obligingly swung over the Asian side, past the colourful cranes of Kadikoy and tiny Topkapi and just like that I was back.

It was as if I had never left.

The lady who cleans the mosque saw me with my suitcase and asked me where I had been (or, perhaps, where I was going). Either way, my answer was met with disapproval and she left, presumably to feed the cats.

My favourite restaurant was there, busy and bustling. My favourite cafe was shuttered, but the kitty was to be found and cuddled on the same stretch of street. The friendly man in the corner store was there with a big smile and a wave. Ali the security guard was there. His smile changed to a frown when he heard how long I was staying. “Problem,” he said.

It was amazing to see familiar places again as if for the first time through the eyes of my friends. And it was amazing to discover new places, because Istanbul never fails to offer new sights down an alley unexplored, new views from a different hill, and new delights in the bright sunshine and under the navy night sky.

“Some people do come back,” wrote Merve when she checked us in at the meyhane.

It was great to be back.

 
Photo gallery by Bust It Away Photography

Beyoglu

morning ferry

Taksim-Tunel

Istiklal

Beyoglu view

along the Bosphorus

Anadolu Kavagi

fried mussels

Bosphorus to Black Sea

hopeful kedi

seaside table

Bebek table

pomegranate orange juice

kebab

the view from my window

shoe salesman

plates

fishing boats

Uskudar fish market

Sakirin Camii

Galata Tower

Aya Sofya ceiling

Harem

ballet

Turkey travels - Intrepid 2 - Ephesus to Kas

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Intrepid 2 Ephesus to Karakoy

After we left Ephesus, we went to a restaurant where we learnt how to make Gozleme – which is like a very flat bread that gets filled with spinach, cheese, eggplant and/or meat. We ate them quite often – good, and filling. We all got a chance to make them.

Our next destination of interest was Pamukkale, covering most of the distance by train which was impressively comfortable, clean and on time.

Read more… 1,037 more words

A little sunshine ... read all about an amazing adventure to Istanbul and beyond on this blog!

“I’m going to lie in the sand in front of the roots of an old tree and draw them…”

So wrote Vincent to his brother Theo and 40 results are exquisitely exhibited at the National Gallery of Canada. The canvasses of  trees, flowers, fruit, fields and one pair of boots, painted in five years in France, will go back to their homes in museums and private collections around the world on September 3rd.

There are versions of “Sunflowers” and a single “Iris”. There are “Dandelions” and “Pink Roses.”  There is a “Vase of Cornflowers and Poppies” composed of thick textured layers of paint creating a 3D effect with light, dark and cornflower blue, flashes of pink, white which is really grey and yellow and brown, and translucent swipes of poppy petals wafting down.

If we study Japanese art, then we see a man, undoubtedly wise, and a philosopher and intelligent, who spends his time – on what? – studying the distance from the earth to the moon?… no, he studies a single blade of grass.

- from a letter from Vincent to Theo, 1888

Vincent’s genius for composition was shaped by his passion for Japanese prints (he collected 400) along with the seven years he spent in a photography apprenticeship. Both are represented in side galleries, besides one on 19th Century drawings which provide context to his ground-breaking work.

It all comes together in the final masterpiece, done on a large scale to commemorate the birth of the painter’s nephew. I crouched down to have a better view and not block that of others. I was immediately rewarded: the shift in light illuminated not a flat background of sky but a stunning puzzle of blue brushstrokes swirling along with the twisting branches of “Almond Blossom.”

The crowds shuffling through on their timed tickets reveal their soaring spirits in the comment book at the end: “Amazing!” “Incredible!” “Merveilleuse!” There are not enough adjectives in either official language to express the beauty of being transported to the yellows of a sun-baked “Wheat Field with Sheaves” in Provence, of standing for a moment on the “Edge of a Wheat Field with Poppies” or of spying an unknown “Woman Walking in a Garden.”

Photos are not permitted and the dazzling colours and sweeps of the brush can never be captured on a poster. I bought one anyway, but if at all possible go see Van Gogh: Up Close.