It's Saturday. I'm sure I've told you before I like a lazy Saturday. There was a new Killing Eve to watch, which I have now accomplished. Eventually, I got out of bed and dressed, and headed out into the chilly spring day with big fat white clouds.

I popped into Jolene on the off-chance of a table for one because their feed said mortadella but it was chokkas and the nice young women were very apologetic. So I went round the corner to Adana which is a great Turkish place and thought fuck it I'll get the Mixed Grill. If you (still) eat meat and haven't done this, do it. I also ordered an Ayran (Turkish yoghurt drink) and was happy when my server said not-Turkish people don't order it very much and I told her I Love It! even though I haven't had one before. Not sure why I did that - it must be the CBD. I normally order a drink of the cuisine of the place I'm eating if it's a possibility. Chances are they've really thought through that drink, and it'll be great.

Which brings me onto a new book I cracked open, which is the 2021 University of Chicago Press edition of La Pensée sauvage by Claude Lévi-Strauss. I enjoyed that the first thing they said in the intro is that the English translation, which had usually been "The Savage Mind" was basically imperialist racist shite and that no other nationality had translated it like that, but more like "wild thinking" or "wild mind" which is what mine's similarly titled, Wild Thought. I'm only on Chapter 1 but already loving it. Chapter 1 is telling us that just because it wasn't a classification system invented by people in the 'Enlightenment' doesn't mean the ways in which every other culture on the planet describes the world around them isn't a match in terms of observation, experimentation, or sophistication. I read a bit of Lévi-Strauss at uni, but didn't really realise at that age how good he was.

Let me just say the Mixed Grill struck me a real meal of the patriarchy. Wow. Kofta, shish, chicken wings, lamb ribs. Yum. I ate most of it, and really enjoyed that, and bread and salad and the Ayran. The waitress was chatty and popped over at just the right moments, which I adore, and I left feeling full and happy, and with a few smiley burps.

Near my house there's a hamam. I've walked past it severally and just about every time I have, I said to myself, I'd like to try that. Well no more, because after lunch, I wandered over to see what it was all about. 

I'm so glad I did. No frills, little English, steam, and a peel and scrub delivered by a large good-natured woman, wherein I felt a bit like a fish getting scaled but in a good way. These folks sure know their way around relaxation. What a pleasure. I was a total first-timer but not their first one, and I stumbled through the process and they tacked here and there to make sure I didn't a) slide off the huge slab of warmed marble, b) rush away from the steam room if I wanted to hang out (which I did and had the place to myself which was lovely), or c) leave the venue without taking 30 mins or so to relax before hitting the street after having sat in steam for ages. I'd left the wet area and gotten dressed again and was headed out when the lady at reception said go downstairs and lie down. I felt a bit weird because the other women were still half-naked and in towels etc, but as soon as I lay down I was absolutely zonked.

I'd also strolled in to the hamam wearing a pair of tightie whities, which are not the right kind of undies to wear. I'd taken them off when I got dressed. After resting my eyes for I don't know how long I spotted other undies on the heater in the relaxo chamber so know that for next time too. I will also bring a towel—I have the perfect one, and now understand why the so-called Turkish towel is so thin—and dry undies and will dress differently so it's all easier. But, loved it. Would recommend.

As I walked home I stopped to grab a Magnum—my first consumed whilst travelling commando—and ahhhh. 

La Pensée sauvage and damp undies