So we were at a Thanksgiving dinner at our neighbor's house on New Years eve. Yes, I know, this in itself could be considered odd, particularly since she stopped by to invite us just that morning. The poor thing was involved in a gall bladder purge during the Thanksgiving holiday and was not able to prepare nor partake in, the traditional feast. She had been feeling very sorry for herself and decided, on the spur of the moment, to replicate the event for New Years eve. We never pass up an invitation to a feast, so off we went, across the street and up the hill, sort of like over the river and through the woods, except without the river and the woods.
Mikhala had cooked up a storm and we joined a neighbor from down the hill at her groaning table. It was all absolutely delicious and I ate entirely too much turkey and stuffing and gravy and homemade cranberry compote and would have eaten more if I wasn't too embarrassed to pass my plate for 4ths. It was lovely.
After dinner, we ate chocolate tofu mousse, chatted about sporting accidents we had endured, the neighbors who weren't in attendance, and our New Years Resolutions. The revelations started to my left and proceeded around the table until it was my turn. I hesitated, debating whether to reveal my resolution to this table of not family nor psychiatric professionals. I could lie, and fit myself in with either the "no resolutions" or the "practical resolutions" camps, but I didn't have the nerve or the imagination. So finally, after hemming and hawing, I told them.
I resolve, in 2009, to learn the lyrics to Istanbul (Not Constantinople), and to learn how to sing it on key, note for note.
Everyone was silent for a moment, then Mikhala gave me a long look, and finally managed to say "Wow, Claudia, that's deep." I know she was teasing, but it stung nonetheless. I felt I had to justify myself, which led to an explanation for my peculiar choice. I started by telling everyone that I had had that song in my head as an earworm for the last month, and that I had never learned all the words, and that I would alternately sing it and hum the parts I didn't know, which if possible, could be even more irritiating to my companions that to have to hear me sing it all the way through. I had decided to put an end to this ridiculousness and just learn the damn song.
This didn't evoke a single sympathetic look. They all just stared at me, finally nodding in seriously fake sympathy. Mikhala surreptitiously removed all the knives from the table. And I just sat there. Humming Istanbul (Not Constantinople), quietly, to myself.
In case you are wondering, the cover is by They Might Be Giants, and if you wish to have this song for your very own earworm, click here.
And if you want to learn it with me and sing along:
Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night
Every gal in Constantinople
Lives in Istanbul, not Constantinople
So if you've a date in Constantinople
She'll be waiting in Istanbul
Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way
So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks
Istanbul (Istanbul)
Istanbul (Istanbul)
Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way
Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks
So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks
Istanbul
