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Take seat, make relax: ten days in Turkey

A few things I’ll remember about İstanbul, Selçuk, Pamukkale and Bodrum:

  • Drinking Turkish coffee down to the grinds, and then trying to get one last drop
  • The flag
  • Hearing the ancient call to prayer in the middle of a modern city
  • Getting caught up in the hustle of İstiklal Caddesi at 4am
  • Diving into the most intense blue of the Aegean Sea
  • Breakfast meze…. mmmm
  • Dancing like crazy to the Grease medley in a club full of Istanbul hipsters, who seem to find this completely normal
  • Waking up to find out that our bus was on a boat
  • Sitting at a roof top bar overlooking the Bosphorus & talking to an intensely handsome Turkish man… via an iPad + Google translate (#ThankYouSteve)
  • Standing on an ancient pillar on top of a hill and surveying the amazing countryside around Pamukkale
  • Delicious warm menemen on an unseasonably cold morning in Selçuk
  • Being hustled out of the Aya Sofya, and turning around to get one last look at the empty grandeur

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Teşekkür ederim, Türkiye. I’ll be back.

The Best Local Throwdown in Boston is Back

theGRAZE, my friends. If you missed out last year, you have another chance. And it’s even more flipping awesome than before. Local beer, local food, local music, local throwdown. Get your tickets early.

Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop.

Watching these videos, that is. Gorgeously done. They also make my traveling feet extra itchy. Istambul bound in 10 weeks…


MOVE from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

Like Butter, Baby

These roads. You have to check them out. If you’re into pavement.

Looking at a map is seems this bike route could have more loopishness and stay the same length,  but the inbound downhill on that out and back part is just so much fun. Plus the farm land is gorgeous.

Also, great news: weatherunderground.com perfectly predicted that it would start down pouring at 8:00pm. Spot on, team! Nice work. Bad news: I was still 15min away from my car at 8:00pm. Whoops!  At least it was simultaneously getting dark. A winning ride, nonetheless.

Hills and Mountains

10k “Run for the Hills” trail run on Saturday to benefit one of my favorite groups, the Essex Country Greenbelt. Followed by a super speedy 20 mile hike up in NH on Sunday with some new trail running friends.  
Big endorsement for the White Mountains Hostel – it was ideal. Also, there was a raspberry bush. Most excellant weekend. 
Lincoln from Liberty

K at the top of the Flume

Dudes at the top of Lafayette or maybe Lincoln

On being a vegetarian

First of all, I’m not. Second, I don’t eat a ton of meat. Largely because I like to be clear on the origins of said meat, and achieving such assurance is often difficult.

I have feeling, though, these folks know from whence their sausage arrived. An important distinction, really. For anyone.

@barbecoa #london

Why the hell would anyone ever "check in" anywhere? Seriously. Why.

Because of this comment in a post on a blog that I follow, the genesis of which was a tumblr comment on the bloggers tweeted photo from the ICA. Keep up, all right? This is important.

Original post: here.

Money observation: “Someday, everything interesting you see online that has a presence in the real world will have an “Add to foursquare” button. And foursquare will nudge you to get off your ass and experience these things in person.”
Credit belongs: teendrama :: hello my name is dennis.
Anyone want to go to the ICA on Thursday? It’s free.

A tale in five iPhone camera photos

I’m talking about a place where the four loko flows like wine and where live music is played in bars that smell like urinal cakes, where the beer comes in limited edition corked bottles and mountains rise up as if the result of relatively recent  tectonic plate movement.

Yes, friends, this is California.

Pre-conference.
Monday night in San Fran means Bachelors at the Saloon.

Also, there was work. 
And then work was over.

Happy ending.

new years in august.

New year comes early to this Granada village, on the first Saturday of August!

The Alpujarra, a mountainous district south of the Sierra Nevada mountains in southern Spain which straddles two provinces of Andalucía, is home to one of the oddest celebrations in Spain.

The small village of Bérchules, in Granada province, achieved national fame after the locals decided they did not want a repeat of a disappointing New Year’s Eve in 1994, when a power cut left the entire village in the dark and unable to mark the countdown to midnight with the twelve grapes in time with the rest of Spain.
They decided to move that year’s celebration to the beginning of August, and have been celebrating two New Year’s Eves ever since.

The idea came from one of the villagers, Miguel Toro, who later became president of the August New Year association set up to organise the festivities – Abnea.

The celebration takes place on the first Saturday in August, with the village decked out in all the accoutrements of the year-end: there are nativity scenes, trees are decorated, lights are strung up, carols sound out unceasingly from loudspeakers set up around the village, and stalls are set up for the sale of turrón and other winter delights. They even decided to send a basket of typical local produce to the Prince and Princess of Asturias one year, plus an invitation to visit the village for the August festivities.

The celebrations take place throughout the day, where Bérchules’s 800 or so inhabitants are joined by thousands of visitors from other parts of Spain and abroad for the New Year’s Eve fireworks, the procession of the Three Kings, and thousands of kilos of grapes.

The grapes are eaten just as they are on the December New Year’s Eve, along with the chimes of the church bells, as the champagne flows, and artificial snow falls from above.

A similar celebration has been taking in place in Valoría la Buena, Valladolid, in Castilla y León, since 1996, after a heavy storm left the town without power on 31st December 1995. They also treat the August celebration just as they do for the festivities on the last day of December. The difference in both villages is the greeting shouted out by the crowd as the clock strikes its twelfth chime: ‘Happy Half New Year!’