The Photography of Dr. Jeff Harper

The markets, shops, and bazaars of Istanbul are full of a kaleidoscopic array of things . . . lots of things . . . like these wonderful tea sets.  We bought that very purple-tasseled one right there.

Beautiful things: Turkish tea sets.

We spent seven days in Istanbul, and I believe we spent half of our time snooping in shops and market stalls.

There were myriad things to look at, buy, and of course, photograph.

Lamps, lamps, lamps.  These shops made us continually recalculate our baggage weight!  Should we buy, or not.  We didn't get any of these . . . this time.

There were some very interesting shops in Istanbul . . . like this quill pen shop.  You don't see these too much any more.

They have nice soap in Istanbul.

Very nice, and aromatic, soap.  We bought several different scented bars.

Woven and knitted things outside The Grand Bazaar.

A Turkish flag hawker hidden in his wares.

There was no shortage of trinkets at the trinket shops.  These are made for tourists, although I saw plenty of Turks purchasing these trinkets too. An exploitation of cultural iconography.

Traditional Turkish blue glass 'evil eye' bobbles were everywhere in Istanbul.

The trinket shops were interesting, but the GOLD SHOPS were, well, dripping in gold like some potentate's secret treasure room!

The variety of things for sale in the bazaars was incalculable.

15th century Head Shop! Also the only merchant using white light to show his wares . . . they stood out like a fire in the night.

Need to dress your harem dancers?  No problem, there's a shop for that.

We spent some time perusing the fabric shops.  We brought home a nice tablecloth for the kitchen table.

I bought the Black Harley-Davidson Istanbul t-shirt here.  Cool.

It was the spice shops, and The Egyptian Spice Market of Istanbul, that really had fascinating 'things' . . . .

Spice shop array.

The Egyptian Spice Market of Istanbul (Mısır Çarşısı), selling spices, nuts, potions, teas, powders, and dried everything since 1660.  Amazing.

I spoke to the owner of this shop who said his family has held this exact location in The Spice Market since 1660, 355 years!

Dried fruits, some stuffed with nuts (my favorite), and mountains of nuts (my favorite) we fantastic!  We brought back a niece selection of these.

Figs stuffed with walnuts . . . I cannot imagine anything better to eat on this planet . . . OK . . . maybe durian or mango and sticky rice . . . but these are right up there!

I took way too many walnut stuffed fig photos.  These are but a few of the really good ones.  Notice the walnut stuffed dates nearby: also yummie.

These walnut stuffed dried apricots were also marvelous.  The snackage here was astonishing!

A strange twist:  right in the middle of the spice market was what looked like a wedding dress shop.  Complete incongruity!  A strange dream.

Nuts and dried apricots, dates, and figs.  Wow.  Just WOW.  These constitute 74% of my normal, everyday snackage.

The displays in The Spice Market were works of edible Art.

Dried whatnot . . . perhaps some kind of flower petal for tea-making.

Olives!  The Olives . . . . were . . . to . . . . DIE    for!

Fancy some tea?  The tea stalls were fantastic and brought about thoughts of ancient ships bringing these, and the spices, to Istanbul markets for further distribution throughout Europe.

Beautiful sage tea.  The color!!!

There were candies of every imaginable hue in the Bazaars, but it was the Turkish Delight shops and stalls that had the corner on satisfying the globe's sweet tooth.

Enjoy this slide show of the edible things of Istanbul!

If I take a lot of diabetes medication, I can get away with trying a little square of Turkish Delight once a day.  And did.

At a Turkish Delight shop on a cloudy day in Istanbul.

Each of these different types of Delight are ridiculously delicious.  The slice off a piece any size you want.  Nice.

The Delight shops were every five or six shops apart . . . calling out to you to submit yourself to a diabetic collapse.

As it turns out, there are all kinds of delights in a Turkish Delight shop. Some sell good coffee and baked baklava-like things . . . crazy sweet with honey.

These will kill you with sweetness.

Every 50 meters there is a shop like this with stacks of baked and assembled and rolled, and coated delights.

Baklava-ish temptations.  They know how to make desserts in Istanbul, that's for sure.

A stack of pistachio-filled baklava rolls.  Oh My God!

I got a headache just looking at these.

If there wasn't enough honey IN YOUR Baklava, you could buy more and spread it on yourself!  Incredible.

We were very happy when we found the fresh fruit stands and shops.  Pomegranate and orange juice is very thirst quenching . . . .

. . . especially after a really good Turkish pizza(!) made with twisted cheese:

Twisted Turkish cheese.  Mighty fine.

Turkish Efes beer is not too bad.  Not bad at all.

These bread loop peddler's carts are as ubiquitous as, well, kabobs in Istanbul . . .

They are literally on every corner . . .

The carts sometimes seem like meeting places for old friends . . .

As we strolled around Istanbul for a week, I found myself drawn to photographing these peddler carts, even though I do not especially like roasted chestnuts . . .

At first I thought of them as only an interesting foreground detail in a photo frame . . . .

Then I began to see them as an inscribed pecuniary universe inhabited by the cart tender, the peddler . . .

These were mobile business dramas; personal survival was at stake . . .

I was surprised by the limited products offered by the peddlers . . .

There were corn carts, with chestnuts . . .

. . . and corn carts without chestnuts . . .

Some bread ring carts also sold water by the bottle . . . . like this thoughtful peddler . . .

Other carts sold only chestnuts, and very few at that . . .

An interesting business concept employing a cart . . . . Tea and a bowl anyone?  This was one of only a few carts I saw in Istanbul that was not selling either chestnuts, bread rings, corn, or water.

But, it was when the sun began to go down that my infatuation in these Istanbul peddler carts hit a crescendo . . .

At night the peddler carts became small planets arrayed around the monuments, markets, and main streets throughout the city . . .

At night many of the carts were replenished to meet the demands of the night shoppers and party-goers . . .

The pedestrian walks at the city center draw throngs of shoppers in the evening . . .

The carts become lanterns in the night . . . to draw customers, like moths . . .

Visitors, businessmen, tourists, and locals all succumbed to the chestnuts' inescapable allure.

I wonder how these 'locations' are apportioned?  Is there a licensing process with the city? . . .

This man was intensely arranging and rearranging the chestnuts on his cart in an effort, I suppose, to draw attendion to his attention-worthy fare . . .

In the realm of the night peddler cart . . .

As it got later and later in the evening, and the pedestrians thinned out, the carts stood out more and more as forlorn islands of light along the dim streets and avenues . . .

Some cart tenders packed it in and went home . . .

Some cart tenders made their decisions to call it an evening based on the day's take.  I wondered if this man, with a cart still full of chestnuts, had made enough to go home yet . . .

As the evening grew later, I ventured off the main pedestrian walking streets . . .

One last customer.  Who eats roasted chestnuts at midnight? . . .

Walking back to the hotel, along a bridge ramp, I encountered this lonely nut peddler and his cart . . .

Out here, along the broad boulevards with fast moving traffic and few pedestrians, there were still a few carts with their lights on.  This fellow had twisted doughnuts as well as bread rings.

Yes, still customers out at midnight, going who-knows-where . . .

Lit by the red brake lights of a passing bus, this man seemed to have chosen the darkest, most out of the way location possible . . .

This was the only drink cart I saw in seven days of walking Istanbul.  The presence of mayonnaise and catsup made me think that it wasn't going to be a hot drink poured into those cups . . .

Very late at night, the last corn and chestnut cart began to shut down . . .

The last hold out . . . with head hung low.

Emptied and secured for the night (next to a police stand), another day gone in the life of a street peddler cart.

I spent about 90 minutes just around the corner at the Bridg of Dee taking these photos.  It was a wonderous morning.

 I have quickly posted these photos . . .and will get back to this post to make comments . . .  soon.

INVERURIE

Another nice sunny winter Saturday in Scotland.  What to do? Let's go for a drive. We had never taken the 16 miles of road from Aberdeen to Inverurie, so today seemed like a good day to do it.  Inverurie is a 15th century market town that really took off when a canal was dug in the River Don from Aberdeen in 1806.  It has become a comuter town for Aberdunians.

Inverurie has a charming triangular central square dominated by this WW I Memorial to the soldiers from the town who died in the wars of 1914-1918  and 1938-1945.  Lest we forget.

We poked around some shops on the square . . . The Dairy was nice, but the cafe had already sold out the days' meal-of-the-day.  Dang.

It is late enough in the winter for gardeners to start to contemplate taking the risk to-plant-or-not-to-plant.

We walked up the main shopping parade in town and found a nice restaurant and had a fine lunch (I had the Balmoral Chicken - roast chicken stuffed with haggis slathered in peppercorn sauce, Prince Charles' favorite!).

After lunch we walked back to the car, but stopped in a sporting goods and a luggage shop first.

Small, frumpy, Inverurie bar.  We didn't go in.

The road leaving town toward Aberdeen.  Small, clean, charming.

They have a gospel church there too.  I love the winter sky in Scotland.

We said good-bye to Inverurie and were glad we visited.  We want to come back and take some time on the River Walk.

MONTROSE (Angusshire)

 Another nice Saturday, another Saturday Drive, a 20 mile drive . . . this time south down the Coastal Route to an adjoining shire and the port town of Montrose, a somewhat down-at-the-heals village set in the most extraordinary geographic setting between the mouths of the North and South Esk rivers, just in front of a wildlife preserve and estuary. Nice church too.

Church doors have a kind of power . . .

Downtown Montrose shopping district.

A very interesting mix of architecture, unlike Aberdeen.  This looks more Dutch than Scottish.  It was a busy shopping day in Montrose.

Local Hero, Joseph Hume.  He "was commissioned as a surgeon to an Army regiment, and was able to take up work as interpreter and commissary-general due to his knowledge of Indian languages."  Cool!  He learned Hindi, just like me! He was also a poet and radical parliamentarian. Nice to see a statue of such an interesting guy in a small town city square.

What?  A Bakery!  Let's have a look.  Some nice local specialities.  We bought an Apple Tart to eat later [far right - it was only ok].

We also bought a loaf of the Oat Bread [top shelf]: it had a crust as hard as concrete and weighed nearly 30 kilos [an exaggeration].  It was, however, extremely delicious.

The TRUE TEST of modern small town economic development is it's capacity to provide a drinkable double latte.  We found this 15th century vaulted cafe off the main square and administered the aforementioned test.  It passed.  A passable latte . . . although a little weak.

The cafe also had the usual display of what could have been 'home made' chutneys, syrups, compotes, jams, and jellys.  We already have these in excess cluttering our refrigerator.  Nothing new here, keep moving.

Yes, Montrose has a Chinese restaurant just like every single town in Scotland!  My wife had just returned from Hong Kong so was not in the mood to complicate her memories of the gastronomy there.

Another commemorative and honorary statue . . . I didn't catch this fellow's name . . . .

Some dilapidation here and there . . . disappointing.  Time to head out of town, find the port, and on to the estuary.

It was a wonderful day with fantastic winter light.

A view back across Montrose Basin to the old town. "At one time Montrose was Scotland's second largest exporter of salmon; and mussel cultivation gave it the largest mussel beds in the country during the 19th and early 20th centuries."  There is a live webcam of Montrose from across the estuary if you want to see what it looks right now.

Low tide on Montrose Basin . . . . a beached boat.

We pulled into the Montrose Basin Wildlife Reserve to ask what to see in the area.  The map provided the answers . . . go to The Bridge of Dun.

The view from the Reserve's Visitor Center Observation Deck was nice . . . and lined with bird-watchers chatting among themselves.  I heard one say, "Isn't that a ring tail twitter finch, just there?"

The Bridge of Dun is a Category A Listed Building . . . without a Wikipedia page!  I did find this, "Three-arch stone bridge, completed 1787 by Alexander Stevens."[citation] The bridge is said to have been the only way to cross the South Esk River, so the Leard built this elaborate toll bridge to enhance his fame.  My battery died within seconds of taking this photo, so other than iPhone shots, I have nothing to post of St Vie village and beach, where we went next.  We had a great day out.

It was a beautiful Sunday a couple of weeks ago . . . and I didn't want to stay inside an iron clothes, so I drove the mile to the Aberdeen Esplanade.  I wasn't the only person with this idea.

I parked at the far northern end and vowed I would walk all the way to the harbour entry . . . two and a half miles away . . . and back.  There was a steady North Sea breeze, a calm sea, and large rolling waves, some quite large. As it was a Sunday, the horizon was full of offshore oil platform tenders, the trucks of the sea.

I enjoyed capturing the waves crashing on the embankments of the Esplanade. . . it was high tide.

I walked slowly along, camera at the ready.

Some of the waves crashed with a loud THUD.

Although it was sunny, the air temperature was only about 3c (39f), and breezy.  People are passionate about their sports and hobbies like this guy and his sea kayak.

This fellow was quite good at it.  His rides were not long, but he caught a lot of waves.  Fun.

2 1/2 miles up the arc of the Aberdeen Esplanade to the tall harbour control tower was my goal . . . I had never walked the full length before.  There were many people out for a stroll: couples, old people, women walking their dogs, and whole families strolling along the North Sea shore.  After I got up to speed, I left the camera in my backpack  . . .

. . . and only stopped once to take this photo of the lighthouses out at Rattray Head.

The southern end of the Esplanade is at the entry to the medieval fishing village of Footdee, known locally as "Fittie".

Footdee sits directly on the sea, protected by a small-ish sea wall.  I wonder what it is like here at high tide (like today) but with a big storm!

Such a pleasant place.  Old stone terrace houses, short doors, benches, and interesting trinkets in all the windows.

The poured glass window testifies to the age of this old door.

I am forever being surprised by Aberdeen: wonderful new places to visit right here in my new home town. Footdee.  The first mention of Fittie was in 1398.  The current village of Fittie "is a particularly interesting example of a planned housing development purpose-built to re-house Aberdeen's local fishing community. Laid out in 1809 by John Smith, then Superintendent Of The Town's Public Works." [citation]

So sweet.  These little places remind me a great deal of old Danish fishing villages . . . although the Danes would have plastered them and painted them with ox blood.

The sharp angle of the winter sun on this rough stone house created an interesting effect.

I walked back by the same house later as the sun was lower in the sky and the light yellowed from time to time.

In and among the more permanent stone structures of Footdee were these fabulously textured fisherman's sheds.

This weathered green shed caught my eye enough to want to do a study of its incredible surfaces . . . .

A late winter's sun's sheen on an old green fisherman's shed.

Yummie textures, light, shadow, detail, and color.

A nautical decorative feature added by who-knows-who, from who-knows-where, affixed who-knows-when.

I made it all the way to the old harbour tower . . . that had an inscription:

The inscription commemorates the 850 years since the founding, in 1136, of Aberdeen's Harbour Board!  That'd be 878 years this year . . . WOW!

At the Aberdeen Harbour I encountered this screaming fellow waving the Jolly Rogers. I kept my distance; I didn't know if he was protesting the oil company docks nearby, or he was a football (soccer) fan, so I walked back through Footdee toward the Esplanade and the 2 1/2 miles back to my car.

They don't make fishermen's sheds like they used to.  Too bad, as this one was beautiful in its own dilapidated and decaying way.

Corrugation!  I've got corrugation!  One of my favorite photographic subjects is corrugation and sundry things attached to it.  This shed was divine, but the window was worth a closer study.

Astonishing beauty.  I love this dilapidation . . . a picture of history itself . . . the work of time and weather upon a manmade object transits to a work of The Elements.

I left Footdee, a real, living, working, fishermen's village, for the crowds of the Esplanade.  I will be back here again . . . maybe to see if it is possible to rent one of those little sheds . . . I imagined a week-end retreat . . .

I joined the late afternoon throng that had come to look at the North Sea, and then quickly walked the 2 1/2 miles back along the Esplanade to my car.  A great day, yes, a great day.