Edirne, Turkey. June, 2007

Photography was forbidden inside this historic mosque in the western part of Turkey near the Greek and Bulgarian borders. But I’d come all this way just to see this mosque, so I only took a dozen or so discreet shots. Just look at the ceiling of this dome. Can you blame me?

Üsküdar, Istanbul. June, 2005

Old and traditional this mosque may be, but it’s got a very modern electronic display there that indicates the times during the day when Muslims are called to prayer. Tourists, especially those in hotels near mosques, are often shocked awake early in the morning by the amplified calls broadcast from the mosques, summoning the faithful.

Istanbul. June, 2007

This man spends his day peeling and preparing artichokes for sale. I was so proud of the fact that I knew the Turkish word for artichoke (enginar), that I felt prompted to say it to him. You can see his reaction here. I guess I was more impressed than he was.

Belleville, Paris. December, 2005

Even the birthplace of Edith Piaf is not sacred enough to avoid the wrath of Parisian taggers. Domage.

Tucson. May, 2005

“Weasel is a nice cat,” says Dr. Blake each time I bring up the name of David (seen here) and Simon’s cats (one of them.) Several years later and Weasel is still a nice cat. Not shy. And like many a Siamese, talkative, responding in kind to each “meow” sound I make.

Edirnekapı, Istanbul. June, 2007

Mosaics in Istanbul, each more intricate and dazzling than the next. Like these in one of the domes of Holy Savior in Chora (often translated as Saint Savior) just outside the center of the city. A bus or a taxi or a metro (plus a walk through some dicey neighborhoods) will get you there. And just in case the mosaics aren’t enough reward for your troubles, there is an excellent restaurant, Asitane, right next door.

Westwood, CA. October, 1981

What a mess! Me, not Marilyn. Well, maybe Marilyn, too. I remember what I felt like this hungover morning when my friend Artie picked me up (at the Chateau Marmont, if you please, which has seen its fair share of hangovers and overdoses) and kindly took me on a tour of the must-see spots in Los Angeles and environs. By the time we got to Venice Beach later that afternoon, I was back to normal. Or whatever normal was in those days. And ready to start in all over again. The past.