So here I was saying that I had written through my blog backup. How wrong can one girl get? I’d totally forgotten a critically important piece of content I was going to share? How could I?
One of the very best parts of this Christmas Past was the Camp Gramp theme song. This story starts back in June, when my church held a fund-raising auction. I scored some excellent packages — baskets, goodies, a photography session and… a custom song written by our pastor. After mulling for a month or two, I asked him to put together a Camp Gramp Theme song. For several weeks I sent him information on Camp Gramp, with periodic inquiries returned.
Camp Gramp, for the uninitiated, is an annual adventure. Since Grey was about 2, Camp Gramp has been a time when my parents take all of their grandchildren for a week of revelry, junk food, adventures and fun — while the parents of said grandchildren abscond to go do fun grownup things that are not kid-friendly. My parents do not plan on doing ANYTHING during that week but pay attention to their grandkids. We middle generation abscond. (Last year we went to Istanbul! The year before it was backpacking.) And the kids get each other’s company and have a ball. It’s an excellent establishment – long may it continue!
Then, a few weeks before Christmas, he said he was ready. After church, we all snuck away from coffee hour and he played it for us. It was AWESOME!!!!! It captured the spirit and flavor of Camp Gramp.
I can just imagine me, being somewhere totally different! And the kids, bleary-eyed and not my responsibility, being woken up by these dulcet strains for another day of fun and happiness together. I imagine them reminiscing about how awesome that was years from now, when they’re ancient and my age.
I’m not going to type out the words to the song here (some things you don’t want to have SEO’d) but for all you big Camp Gramp fans out there, here is the Official Camp Gramp Theme song!
August 2 — A gathering room in the harem
This morning was a tough start. Jet lag persists. But we roused ourselves and headed out to Topkepi Palace, ostensibly before the worst of the tourists hit. After a snag involving insufficient lira and government buildings that don’t take credit cards or dollars, we got in. We saw the harem first. It was lovely, with amazing detail work. There are, however, only so many Iznik tiles you can admire before they blur together. Then, by luck, we caught an open air concert of the military band. It was quite wonderful, although their trumpet section wasn’t up to my standards. After that the circumstances went downhill. Historical Turkish Band
The place was packed with tourists of all stripes. The wait for the treasury was abominable, and the humidity was high. There were some neat things to be seen, but the heat, crowd, lines and lacking interpretations made it difficult for even the most intrepid museum-goers to flourish. We fled for lunch and a siesta.
After lunch we pursued a tip on where we might find a nice, handmade, leather purse…. Not a brand name or knockoff. We were unsuccessful in that quest, but met a nice salesman who admitted that he wasn’t really interested In selling us a purse, and didn’t have any relatives in the bazaar, but wished us luck. We walked home past the Golden Horn, the rail station that was the end of the Orient Express, and an expanse of the Bosporous. We sat in fading golden sun, our backs to ancient walls inscribed with Greek, watching crazy old men swim, fathers fishing with their sons, and mammoth ships negotiating turbulent waters. My favorite spot on the Bosphorous
A fine dinner, and then dessert on a rooftop restaurant, with a view of night lit Hagia Sophia on one side and the roiling waters of the
Bosporous on the other. My husband and I kept arguing about who had the better view.
Tomorrow is the Blue Mosque… We hope to catch that before the cruise ships overwhelm it. Then the Grand Bazaar in out ongoing purse quest, followed by a landmark cup of coffee in the Spice Bazaar. Hagia Sophia on a sultry Istanbul night
At least that’s the plan!
We miss our boys. There are lots of kids here, so we are always reminded. Give them big hugs and kisses for us.
Brenda
Meanwhile, back in the States…
After spending the day looking at all the women in 1830 had to do, I guess shouldn’t complain. We went to Sturbridge Village. Minor complications, but for the most part, it was great fun. The Shirts (tie-dyed) were a hit! People knew we were together, anyway. We rode in the horse drawn carriage and took a ride on the boat. We saw the blacksmith. Pizza may not be 1830, but it was good. Dad got to see the sawmill working — something I saw last time. The children made candle holders. A good time was had by all.
I will try to get a picture of the crew at Sturbridge Village in tie dye off to you shortly. Dad’s is especially colorful!
Gramama and Papapa
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Sounds like you are having a great time. So are we.
Sturbridge Village is really awesome. We can go again in the next 10 days free and I am thinking about it. Without Thane, it would be different. Of course, without children at all would be really interesting, but I don’t think we will manage that.
I have never seen a child that liked a bath better than Thane. My goodness. Better get tickets for the 2030 Olympics. I think he will be a swimmer.
The boys are fine. They are tired tonight, but they are both off to bed. Thane is asleep. Grey will be soon. We read lots of books tonight — it was great fun.
How do we get pictures on this computer? (Editor’s note with foreshadowing: I wish I’d managed to send her this information!!!)
In Istanbul:
Adam and I have been in Istanbul for about 24 hours now, and we’re having a blast. Our hotel is lovely and very close to the cool stuff. We switched rooms and now also have working AC… A distinct improvement. Yesterday we had dinner and wandered.
Today was Hagia Sophia and the Basilica Cistern.
Hagia Sophia (pronounced Haiya Sofia) was the real final reason I wanted to go to Istanbul. Anyone who has read anything of Constantinople in the age of the Emperors has read of Hagia Sophia. Perhaps it was Justinian’s glimmering mosaics reaching up to the heavens, or the crowning of blinking emperors still dressed in the chains of captivity. Perhaps it was stunned awe of barbarian emissaries who wondered if they had actually died and gone to heaven. Maybe it was the astonishing plunder and despoiling of this great cathedral by the Christian Crusaders. Or that last, desperate mass when the Christians of Istanbul crowded Hagia Sophia to pray as newfound “cannon” technology destroyed the walls that had protected them for over a thousand years, against countless hordes of would-be invaders. Regardless, Hagia Sophia stands at the center of Constantinople as it was. The domes of Hagia Sophia
I had seen what I considered to be copies — St. Marks in Venice foremost among them. St. Marks takes your breath away, a glittering gem reaching with gold tessarae to the impossibility of Pentacost. I couldn’t WAIT to see the original. Ah, Hagia Sophia! You break my heart! There are still glimpses there, of what was. A mosaic of Jesus and John the Baptist with wild and unruly hair catches the imagination. The porphyry columns stand magnificent in their purple. The tops of the pillars are carved with impossibly delicate vines. The expanse of the dome is breath-taking. But for the most part, the mosaics are gone. There is peeling paint and plaster where there were once endless rich scenes. The dome echoes hollowly. There is no music or incense left. Giant 19th century Islamic calligraphy changes the flow of the building. But mostly, there was little left of the beautiful lady on the hill but her shell. I knew better, but somehow I expected to be able to see more. John the Baptist and Jesus in Hagia Sophia
We left a little disheartened, although perhaps we shouldn’t have been. The vast streaming hordes of tour groups didn’t help, I think. But from there we went to the Basilica Cistern. Istanbul is dotted with cisterns. This one was build by the Romans, around the age of Constantine. It was dark, cool, and very mystical. The portrayal was well done, with dim lights highlighting the lovely symmetry of the ancient cistern. The Basilica Cistern
It was discovered by the Ottomans over a thousand years after it had been built when people had wells in their homes — from which they drew living fishes. We wandered through the cistern, to the cool drip of the subterranean waters. At the very far corner were two enormous Medusa heads, set askew. There are theories as to why they are there, but no certainties. Under normal circumstances, they would be hidden below the water, menacing the fish who still swim there. The craftsmanship, age, mystery and loveliness of the cool cistern combined to make it one of our favorite spots. Ancient Medusa in the Basilica Cistern
We’re planning to round out the day with a visit to the Turkish baths.
We went to the 300 year old Turkish baths at Cagaloglu. (Pronounced Jailalu.) I have a lot to say about the experience, from my point of view. Perhaps surprisingly, I found it an intensely feminist and liberating experience, as well as a very nice massage. Unlike American massages, you actually do get cleaned. There’s something quite amazing about being soaped and scrubbed. It was a profound and moving experience for me, although that may have as much to do with what I brought to the experience as anything else.
Tomorrow, I think Topkeki Palace.
The food is excellent, the weather lovely, the city is bustling and ancient, and the carpet salesmen are persistent, to understate the
case.
The food was really, really excellent. Really. YUM!
We love you guys. We miss you, but not enough to wish we were home. Mom, give those boys of ours kisses. Do they miss us?
Meanwhile, back in the States:
I am reminded of the Christmas story about the person who spent a small fortune on the toy and the kid wanted the bike. I took the kids to the beach this morning. Let me say up front that Brenda warned me not to do that, but did I listen? Thane is, indeed, a lemming — “water” — Wow, can that kid move. But note, I made it to Revere beach and back. That is to be lauded in the navigating area. The bad news is, Thane slept on the way home. The knowledgeable know that means he did not sleep when he got home.
The afternoon task was to make the Camp Gramp shirts. Tie-dye. However, that was for doing when Thane was asleep. Even I wasn’t dumb enough to do that with Thane awake.
Right now they are entertaining themselves with no adult imput — they are fascinated by the baby monitor system. They dash from room to room sending messages on the system. I hope it wasn’t supposed to be a secret!
Time to put some water in the swimming pool.
I have beautiful grandchildren!
Love, Gramama
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The morning has dawned on Full Day One of Camp Gramp. Last night we ate mac and cheese with hotdogs and grapes. Then the troops watched a Scooby movie and an episode of Sponge Bob and went to bed, but not to sleep right away. In fact, talking and giggling happened long enough that people were hungry again. I put on my frowny face and told them to go to sleep — which sort of worked.
One cannot complain about 7 a.m., I don’t think. I am sorry, Adam and Brenda, Thane is watching TV with them right now. I am really trying not to corrupt the youth, but …
Today we will go to the beach in the morning, and this afternoon, when our little helper is asleep, we will make our Camp Gramp shirts with tie-dye! How is that for gay dissipation!
Thank you for sharing your children with us!
Love, Gramama
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I was smart enough to do the dyeing in the basement and the dye will wash off little hands before you see them. A fun time was had by all. We can open them and wash them out tomorrow night after Thane goes to bed. Call me a coward, we did the tie dye after the 20 month old went to sleep.
Dad had a wonderful day — almost $400 and lots of good information (Note from the Editor: my dad runs a historical picture business called Memories Made Digital. He stayed behind for the local old-timer’s picnic). He sounded excited. He will be here tomorrow morning and an extra set of hands will help.
Oh yes, if you have to go to the bathroom and it is DESPERATE, you can go to the Police station even though you are terrified. And the police officer will come out and give you a badge to stick on your clothing. Then you can discussion how police officers can help you.
How peaceful it feels. I think I will go take my shower and read for a few minutes before I check out for the night. Right now they are sleeping, getting ahead of me on the energy front!
It’s always hard to get back on that digital horse when you come back from vacation. Usually I make regular posts about very minute things that happen in my life. And then I made rice in the rice-cooker; can you believe it?!?! But when you’re on vacation you spend like days and days doing actually interesting things and not blogging about them at all. Heck, not even checking your email or facebook or blogroll for DAYS AT A TIME. (Swoons)
And then you come back with all these things to talk about. And 2000 emails in your personal inbox (950 of which claim that you need more excitement in your nights while offering a solution to said problem). And another 2000 in your work inbox. And several hundred nearly-identical pictures of Mt. Rainier on your camera. And a pile of dirty laundry. And everything on your unwritten “to do” list that you thought “I’ll do do that after vacation; it’s too early now”.*
So if you’re lucky you end up doing one big spill-over post that ends up reading like your bad 9th grade journal: We went on a four-day backpacking trip on the West Side of Mt. Rainier. It was awesome. The weather was great. The bugs were terrible. It was generally fantastic. After that, there were hijinks involving an expired passport, but we made it to Victoria anyway.
So instead, let me give you a picture of Mt. Rainier and the (probably vain) hope that I’ll write smaller bits about what I did. Aurora Lake at sunset Aurora Lake in the morning
*I would like to apologize for this paragraph. I think that so far every single sentence breaks at least one rule of grammar. I am obviously unafraid of sentence fragments, and of starting my sentences with “and”. It’s not because I don’t know better; it’s because I’m a bad person.
My Truant Pen 