Although this is hardly an authentic venetian meal, I was craving pizza, and this was a good one. The wine didn't hurt the lunch, either.

I started my Biennale day at the Aresenale, where I found this little piece.

The Arsenale also featured an installation by James Turrell that was truly mesmerizing. Three at a time, visitors were allowed to put on special clean shoes, and ascend up a set of stairs, entering a hole in the wall that was defined by color. The interior space had no corners, but a gradual ramp that led to a shear drop off with no edges. A gradually changing colored glow enveloped the space, and the intensity of the color was both shocking and disorienting. Although there were no special effects, a fog seemed to be emanating from the hole, but this was just an optical illusion. Obviously, photos were not permitted, and I don't think they would have helped, anyway. This is the long passage outside of the exhibit space.

I wonder what it's like to live in a place where everyone knows the color of one's undergarments.

The facades of some Venetian houses are like archeological digs in progress, showing all the layers of construction and renovation.

A view of the Q-Tip section of the bizarre installation in the Swiss pavilion, by Thomas Hirschhorn.

I have always been inspired by Sverre Fehn's Nordic Pavilion.

The American Pavilion featured a working ATM/pipe organ, by Allora & Calzadilla. When cash is withdrawn, a room-shaking church chord is played.The installation in the Austrian Pavilion included a maze-like structure that was suspended about 3 feet off the ground, by Markus Schinwald (also in the image at the top of the page).

Josef Hoffmann's design of the Austrian Pavilion still seems current 80 years later.

The interior of the Greek Pavilion, by Diohandi.

The Japanese Pavilion featured an animation by Tabaimo that was projected in every direction, in a room full of mirrors.

The animation, and the whole experience, for that matter, was enveloping, and I have no idea how long I stayed inside. I only know that I was asked to leave at closing time.

When I emerged from the Biennale's gardens, I discovered that the weather had changed. For the first time since leaving Kyrgyzstan, I was faced with the potential for rain, and a poor evening for photographing.

One of the larger sotoportegi.

The weather was looking ominous, as I made my way back towards the center of the city. I made the decision to have dinner near my hotel, which turned out to be a good decision, because the skies opened up shortly thereafter. Yes, that tower's leaning. It's the campanile of the Chiesa di San Giorgio dei Greci.

A gondolier emerges from beneath Carlo Scarpa's bridge in front of the Querini Stampalia. I'll be back here tomorrow to spend some time in the garden.

I stopped at another small Osteria for Cicheti on my way back to my neighborhood.

I could get used to the idea of Venetian happy hour. Cicheti and wine before dinner is not a bad way to start an evening.

At dinner, which happened to be in an alley very close to my dungeon of a hotel, I started with my waiter's recommendation of pasta with tuna.

I'm almost positive that this is not what I ordered. My waiter and I discussed a couple of his recommendations, and I'm pretty sure that we settled on a mixed seafood plate. Another waiter handed me this, and walked away. After scratching my head for a moment, I decided to dig in. About 30 seconds later, I saw my waiter heading towards me with a plate of seafood, but when he saw me eating this, he quickly turned around. I didn't mind, however, because this was fantastic, and I was able to practice my newly learned filleting techniques.

The streets were soon rain-soaked, and outdoor diners were forced to huddle beneath meagre awnings.

Taking shelter in a sotoportega is a good opporunity to make a romantic connection.

The streets in Canareggio were soon deserted, and I had to rush to get back to my room before being completely drenched.

Someone mentioned that I've taken a lot of photos of narrow alleys. This one takes the cake, and is a major access route, too.

My first night in Venice was spent exploring Canereggio, the neighborhood in which my hotel is located. There is one busy street, Strada Nova, that leads from the trains station towards the Rialto Bridge, and San Marco, but just one block off of that street, everything is completely quiet, with little Osterias hidden on back alleys, or small squares of which few people have ever heard.

I found a fantastic Osteria on one such small square, Campo Widmann, which I never knew existed. I treated myself to a great meal here, with only local ingredients (typical in italy, I guess), and fish that was caught that day by Venetian and Burano fishermen. This was Branzino Marinato, which is sort of an italian version of ceviche. The fish was not cooked, but lightly marinated in some balsamic vinegar, and lemon juice. It was fantastic.

My next course was a sardine pasta, which is pretty self-explanatory, and was delicious. I did not go for the full three-course meal because this was actually my fourth meal of the day. I stupidly ate lunch at the airport in Istanbul, and then got on the plane, where they served me another full lunch. Also, the deserts at this place looked other-worldly, but I settled for one of the best espressos that I've ever had. I had a date with a gelateria around the corner.

My long-awaited gelato. Thoughts of this moment got me through some tough times on this trip. It was everything that I had hoped it would be, although my favorite flavor, stracciatella is on the bottom, so it's not visible in the picture. It's covered in tiramisu.

This is just one of the many quiet, off-the-beaten-track squares in the Canneregio.

I had to do the old "cough and snap" routine to get this interior photo from Il Gesuiti, which is only possible when there aren't many people around, and when the sexton is an ancient man who's nodding off in the back pew. I'll have a photo of the exterior when the lighting is a little better.

Of course, San Marco is undergoing some renovation, although the mosaics over the doors are still visible.

The opposite of a small square in Canereggio, San Marco is jammed with people trying to snap photos of themselves covered in pigeons, or posing in front of the basilica.

Do I have any more insight into the patterning on the facade of the Doge's Palace after traveling so far? I think so, and I think that my regular readers will, too. My final stop in Milan will give some high Gothic context, too.

The building remains a singularly eclectic melange of influences.

The requisite view of palazzos across the Grand Canal

Yesterday was laundry day in Dorsuduro.

Views like this, in Dorsuduro, remind me that people still actively inhabit this city. Although, painfully leaning towards Disneyland, Venice still has a very active community, for now.

At the tip of Dorsuduro, which swings around below San Marco, separated by the mouth of the Grand Canal, is Ca' Dario, a great spot to get views across all of Venice, like the one at the top of this page.

The high baroque Chiesa di Santa Maria della Salute was built in around 1630, about the same time as Istanbul's New Mosque. I arrived too late to go inside, but I'm excited to see the 12 Titians located within.

Someone stumbling upon this church might interpret the lighting as some sort of sign, beckoning them inside. I didn't, though.

"Sotoportega" means a passage underneath a building, and sometimes one has no idea what one will find on the other side. Also, these are sometimes the only through routes out of small squares, and can be difficult to find.

One of the last two gondola craftsmen can be found working on a boat towards the center of this picture. He has one rival, who's located on the opposite end of town. Some of his gondolas have ended up in Las Vegas. If you're wondering how I know all of this, I once met the rather unfriendly chap.

Cicchete, the Venetian version of meze, are small snacks that are enjoyed in the evening, while standing up and drinking wine. Tourists pay extra to sit down, but I try to live like the locals. I'm not fooling anyone, though. The snack on the right had some sort of truffle oil on it.

Cicchete are cheap, and the wine is delicious. It's a great way to start off the evening. On a Monday night, the interior of the place was jam-packed with locals.

These suckers paid extra to take their cicchete and wine outside.

Seppie al Nero, one of the dishes to which I was really looking forward. It's cuttlefish, cooked in its own ink, and served over pasta.

Local sole. Whenever I've order a fish like this in the US, the waiter has fileted it at the table. The job was left to me, and I can't say that I did it expertly.

Stracciatella on top. The perfect finale to a great day.

The statues become slightly more animated at night, or maybe that's the gelato talking.

I climbed up a staircase to nowhere in an alley off the bazaar, and got this view over the district.

Pide, or Turkish pizza, tastes much like regular pizza. This had an egg on top, though.

Pide sit in the window, beckoning hungry shoppers.

The Rustum Pasa Mosque is only accessed by one of two narrow staircases in the bazaar district. Upstairs, is a small forecourt overlooking narrow alleys in the bazaar.

Designed by Sinan for a wealthy merchant, the mosque is small, but striking.

Supposedly, the benefactor was a real jerk, but somehow, he managed to marry one of Suleyman the Magnificent's daughters, proving that magnificence skips a generation.

The blue tilework is as intricate as some of the ornamentation that I saw in Samarkand.

Istanbullus have a wide variety of sweets from which to choose. They're definitely not good for anyone with a nut allergy, though.

They like things sweet here, and they even stuff apricots with more sugar and nuts.

After visiting Istanbul Modern, I took a stroll back to the Galata Bridge, passing one of my favorite decaying mosques.

I went all out for my last dinner in Istanbul. Here, the meze portion of my meal included octopus salad, seaweed, and olives.

I know this looks suspiciously similar to a meal that I had on Tuesday, but the waiter told me that sardines are the best seasonal fish, so I took advantage. Luckily, I've developed a real love for sardines over the past couple of years, and nothing beats fresh-caught sardines.

Fortuitously, the restaurant where I had dinner was just down the street from one of Istanbul's most famous baclava cafes. I indulged in a portion of pistachio baclava, which turned out to be five pieces. I've never been much of a baclava fan, so by my standards, this was great baclava. Also, notice the tea cup. I've been meaning to post a picture of one. The tea is served piping hot in a thin glass with no handle. Turks must have calluses built up on their fingers, because the glasses are incredibly hot to the touch. The tea's ridiculously hot, too, and unlike in asia, it's impolite to slurp.

I watched these folks fishing for a while, but didn't see anyone catch anything.

I am amazed at how much corn on the cob is consumed in this town.

I almost hopped on a ferry for a last trip to the asian side, but decided against it at the last minute.

With doors like these, this bank must do honest business.

There's a fish market on the docks on the Karakoy side of the Golden Horn from which you can pick out a fish, and have it cooked up at a neighboring outdoor restaurant.

At a totally different pier from the last time I showed an image like this, on another continent, with completely different performers, this was the main attraction, again. In the west, people have often been accused of orientalist fetishization, but clearly Turks have a similarly exploitative fascination with North American indigenous cultures.

A would-be fisherman takes some time out to mug for the camera.

This is a popular plaza for hanging out with some fish sandwiches or ice cream.

This doner joint was just picking up for the evening, although I would have thought it more of a lunch thing.

It's never too late for baclava.

This place was blindingly bright in an otherwise dark neighborhood, but there seem to be a lot more waiters than customers.

Backgammon is the great Turkish passtime, especially when played over tea. I once had a professor who claimed that backgammon is the "least intelligent" game. I would have liked to see her say that in Istanbul. I thought about playing a few games with these guys, but I would have felt really bad about taking all of their money.

The Basilica Cistern, pictured here, was built around the same time as Hagia Sophia, around 532. Its columns were reused from a variety of ruins in the area. Carp still occupy the waters.

Supposedly, during the early Ottoman period, this became a good spot to dump a body.

One of the ubiquitous men pulling carts struggles up the hill on the outskirts of the Grand Bazaar.

The bazaar had a few more signs of life today than it did last Sunday.

I thought that I might pick up a few spices in the spice market, but I think I'll have to go back when it's not so crowded.

I found a tiny little kebab place, staffed by a friendly waiter, and a more friendly cook. This was the salad that they gave me. It was a spicy sauce to be put on bread that was more similar to salsa than salad.

This simple meal was one of the best that I've had on this trip. Bulgar, lamb, peppers, onions, fennel, lettuce, and tomato. I put a bit of everything on the pita, added a little of the salad, and rolled it up for my dining enjoyment. It was cheap, too.

The friendly cook, who was laboring over hot coals, insisted on taking my picture enjoying the meal that he prepared.

i hopped off the Golden Horn ferry at the last stop, and walked about a mile and a half to get to SantralIstanbul, one of the city's contemporary art museum. I discovered a great exhibit on 20th Century Turkish art in the simple, but elegant museum, which is housed in a former power plant.

After the museum, I walked back the mile and half to the ferry stop, and then waited 45 minutes to take this gondola up a neighboring cemetery hill. The wait was not worth the trip, especially since at the top, I discovered that there was no wait to go down. I would have happily walked up the puny hill, and taken the gondola down for the experience.

The view was pretty impressive at the top.

On the way down, I descended through the cemetery to the Eyup Sultan Mosque.

The Eyup Sultan Mosque is an important pilgrimage site, and the plaza out front was packed with worshipers.

The area around the mosque is full of mausoleums like this one.

The great city walls, constructed by Theodosius II, still stand in tact, for the most part.

The neighborhood around the walls, Kasim Gosim, is particularly colorful.

A small gate in the wall provides one of the few means to penetrate the barrier.

The palace of Constantine Porphyrogenitus pokes out of the neighborhood.

While the Ottomans saved the Byzantine churches, they let the palaces fall to ruin.

I'm sure that most of the houses around here have panoramic views, but on the ground, it's nice to get a brief glimpse out to the Golden Horn.

Not a bad spot to dock a boat, this was where I awaited my ferry to take me back down towards the center of the city.

Another view from a ferry, this one is from up the Golden Horn, back towards the Fatih Mosque (right), the Suleymaniye (center), and the Hagia Sophia (left).

I nice supper snack, this bread, which was stuffed with potatoes, was tasty, and made for me over an upside-down-wok-type device in the open air.

Yes, another day spent looking at mosques. This is the Little Hagia Sophia, which was also built around the same time as its larger cousin. As the name implies, this one is much smaller.

The interior of the Little Hagia Sophia is as intimate as the larger Hagia Sophia's is vast.

This worker is taking advantage of fact that there is always a nice breeze under the arcades around the mosques.

The Book Bazaar is located in the shadow of another enormous mosque, the Beyazit.

Cool shade is also provided by the walls surrounding the mosque courtyards.

The Beyazit Mosque was one of the first grand mosques to be built by the sultans. It is far more ornate on the interior than anything that Sinan produced.

Another Sinan design, the Sehzade Mosque was the architect's first major mosque in the city.

The Sehzade Mosque must have been well used, as the worn marble threshold makes clear.

The fountains in the mosque courtyards are still actively used, and seem to be important meeting places.

The interior of the Sehzade is evocative of Sinan's later grand mosques to come. I was sitting in the back when prayers began, and stayed there inconspicuously throughout the ceremony. It was a powerful experience to see and hear the mosque in action.

Every surface in the mosque resonated with the sounds of the imam's melodious prayers.

The Aqueduct of Valens is an old Roman artifact that now serves as a huge traffic obstruction.

I made a trek to see this mosque, which was built as an ancient church, only to discover that it is closed for renovations.

Istanbul is composed of layers of history built on top, or crammed next to each other.

I made a twenty minute walk out of my way to visit the Fatih Mosque, only to discover, once again, that it is currently being renovated. The tiny glimpses that I got looked impressive, though.

From a distance, it's pretty hard to tell that the Fatih Mosque is being renovated. This does not help those who see it in the distance, and are intrigued enough to make their way to see it (I'm speaking from experience).

Corn on the cob is a popular street snack. The setting's not so bad, either.

These bobbing boats serve what has become my new favorite street food, the local fish sandwiches. Throw in a backdrop of the Suleymaniye on the hill, and I can't resist.

Although I try to sample as much of the food as I can, I've become addicted to these sandwiches, known as "balik ekmek," or "fish and bread." I could not resist getting one for dinner.

Lemon juice and salt are provided on the tiny tables. Nothing else is needed.

I'm not the only one addicted to these sandwiches. The tables were crammed with locals.

I can't imagine that it's easy to cook in these boats, but I guess the guys have had enough practice.

I couldn't resist snapping another photo of the New Mosque, which isn't so new (it was built in the 17th Century).

The New Mosque's arcade has some blue tile work that is vaguely reminiscent of the Timurid tile work that I encountered in Uzbekistan.

The mosque is in an extremely busy district, but the courtyard was surprisingly peaceful.

The Galata Bridge seems to be the most popular fishing spot. It's funny to see these people with enormous fishing poles pulling up sardines.

Istanbul has a huge population of ferrel cats. I sometimes hear them serenading me at night.

This guy sold me a kilo of tasty cherries for $2.

The quay in Eminomu becomes an open air market at night.

We made our all the way up to the mouth of the straight at the Black Sea. This little fishing village was close to the Black Sea, and had an old Byzantine castle overlooking on a point up above.

We stopped at the town pictured in the photo on the top of this post for swimming. Like an idiot, I forgot my swim trunks on my hotel bed. These people were avoiding the crowds at the beach.

I caved in, and got some ice cream at a fishing village on the asian side. This one had vanilla, chocolate, and caramel.

This little village had what seemed like one fish restaurant per inhabitant.

Right around here, on the European side, a house just sold for $120 million.

This is a famous Turkish military academy. Some names with dubious reputations graduated from here. It's a nice setting, though.

Before this bridge was built in the seventies, the only way that Istanbullus could reach the different parts of their city was by boat.

A view towards Uskudar, on the asian side

The Dolmabahce Palace, pictured here, was built in the 19th Century, and soon replaced Topkapi as the sultan's preferred residence. Ataturk ended up moving in when he took power.

The Dolmabahce Mosque became the sultan's home mosque, too.

Dinner: a lamb dish, served in a white-hot terracotta bowl. I'm not sure this was the best choice after a hot day, but it was pretty good, once it stopped boiling.

The entrance to the church/mosque/museum is through these buttresses.

The narthex gives visitors a taste of what's coming. From here, you can glimpse the enormity of the space inside.

I walked around the space before stepping into the middle, trying to get a sense of its dimensions before being assaulted by its grandeur.

Stepping out into the center of the basilica was overpoweringly awe-inspiring. Is that descriptive enough?

Photographs really can't capture this space. Fortunately, however, there are plenty of scale figures around to give a sense of proportion.

I kept stepping back and forth center and the aisles, trying to relive the moment when I first stepped out there.

Fortunately, the Ottomans only painted over the old mosaics. The massive medallions with arabic script were added in the nineteenth century.

The original mosaics were uncovered when Ataturk made the building a museum.

Nothing brings back great travel memories like a video of a mosaic.

I can now understand why every Ottoman architect built mosques vaguely reminiscent of this building.

Sinan spent his whole life trying to top this building. I don't think he was ever able to do it, and it must have been incredibly painful for him to live in this city, and see Hagia Sophia every day.

If I had seen nothing else on my trip to Istanbul, this would have made it worth it.

"Look, kids! Another mosaic!" The exit is on the opposite wall of this passage. A mirror was conveniently positioned over the exit door to remind visitors to look back, lest they miss this last mosaic.

Those of you who know me well will know that this is my worst nightmare: a disgruntled clown, smoking a cigarette. I had to close my eyes as I snapped this picture.

My friend and I grabbed a beer at a rooftop restaurant with a view.

Meze: couscous, an eggplant dish, and some local anchovies (not salty).

The next course: these were stuffed with meat, and were covered with a yogurt sauce.

Local calimari

Fresh sardines. These were ridiculously delicious.

The streets in this neighborhood are filled with tables. This was the view from our ours.

Within the Topkapi Palace's outer fortified walls is this old Romanesque church.

No, this is not a teleporter. It's a fireplace in the harem.

The main courtyard of the harem, this was the realm of the eunuchs.

The light is filtered through a skylight with stone tracery onto this brilliant green wall.

Several layers of detail

I'm not sure why Mehmet the Conquerer didn't choose a more picturesque spot for his palace. This is in the inner court of the palace, back outside of the harem.

There's always a cool breeze under these arcades.

This passageway surrounds a building that houses some ancient Muslim relics, including Mohammed's sword.

The view from an overlook on the Palace grounds. Over towards the right, you can see the Galata Tower, and on the left, you can see the Suleymaniye.

From overlooks around this tea room, the Sultans had a view all the way up the Bosphorous, and out across the Sea of Marmara.

The individual buildings read like pavilions in a park. I always thought that I would build something like the Louvre for myself, but now I think the Sultans may have been onto something. I'll have to consider this.

This tower stands over an important meeting room. Around the other side of it is the unassuming entrance to the harem.

The owners of this house really need to take better care of it. It's all overgrown.

I got a good seat on the ferry going to Kadikoy. This is a view towards the Galata Tower that I climbed yesterday.

Kadikoy has a much more quaint fishing village feel to it. Up on the hill, there are narrow alleys with markets spilling out, or packed with tables for al fresco dining.

This was the first time I had seen a real fish market this whole trip. I know these sardines were fresh because they were still jumping around.

This is another type of fish that I saw on the end of the fishermen's lines. I don't know what it is.

Meringue peeps.

Finally, I can easily eat the fresh fruit!

I ordered a sampling of vegetable dishes at Ciya Sofrasi, the famous restaurant that I had been excited to try. Clockwise from the top, there was a Kale dish with peppers, another dish with what looked like kale, but was called something else, a bean dish, and some bulgar pillows with tomato and basil. In the middle is yogurt. The bulgar was the best part.

My meat course: I think that I could best describe this as stuffed peppers, but that doesn't really do the trick.

A view back to where I ate. This was supposedly the best Turkish food around. I haven't had much Turkish food in my life, so I'm not a good judge, but it was pretty darn good food.

I'm at a loss for words on this one. This was the most popular attraction on the docks in Kadikoy.

A view from Kadikoy back towards Thracian Istanbul. To the left of the little lighthouse, you can just make out the Topkapi tower, the Hagia Sophia, and the Blue Mosque. To the right, you can barely see the Galata tower in the distance.

The sun setting over the Galata Tower. I had actually tried to plan this trip to get some good light on the shores, but I waited too long, so I caught the sunset instead.

The bounty from the Kadikoy market: a kilo of cherries, and one enormous peach.