(The following is an illustrated excerpt from the Journal de voyage du Monde Hebdomadaire, issue 35, 1938, pp. 182-185, translated to the English by Madame Béatrice Vasser)
Fifteen Days in Islak
By Edmund Molyneux
The legacy left behind by Diedrick Goodrich and his small group of explorers is well known to even the most ignorant of children. If it wasn’t made clear enough in grade-school history lessons, the popular comic series Diedrick’s Adventures filled the gaps, albeit inaccurately — for instance, the notion that Diedrick and his faithful assistants traveled long distances by some form of four-wheeled, steam-powered vehicle is as ridiculous as it is fictional.
But my purpose is not to compare a comic-book representation to reality. Indeed, even the comic storyline dares not account for those fifteen days missing from Diedrick’s travel-journal during his stay in Turkey. This selfsame journal would be the key to understanding and cataloging Diedrick’s many fascinating discoveries following his untimely death. Quite a few of the worldly wonders that today we take for granted would be entirely unknown save for this precious journal, such as the pygmy thirteen-toed sloth of west Africa (now a protected species after being overharvested for its lush fur coats), and the giant subterranean burrowing cockroach (bred and domesticated for heavy agricultural work). Yet how much is missing? How many more amazements could we know about, if only the fantastic quest had been documented properly?
Although Diedrick was often drawn to the suburban countryside, as a contrast to the outright wilderness he knew and loved, his travels rarely brought him into a true metropolis. What did he have to look for in a berg such as Constantinople? One of Diedrick’s nearly-anonymous travelmates, known to scholars only as “Nickolas” through a few vague comments in the travel-journal, appears to have voiced his concerns against the voyage to what is now known as Istanbul, saying, quote:
The city is … a treacherous territory, worse than any Sahara or tundra.
For years, Diedrick scholars, sociologists, and fanciful speculating nutcases alike have theorized a secret romance that went sour, a broken promise hidden somewhere in the ancient city. This is counterintuitive, seeing as Diedrick never was interested in matters of the heart; to the contrary, he preached heavily against what he called “trivial and distracting emotions”. There must have been a different reason for those days in limbo.
Having visited Istanbul myself in recent weeks, I came across a zoological curiosity that would best befit our Diedrick, and it was in this way that I came to thinking. Perhaps his goal was to pursue a rumored urban creature? To study rodents that find their home with humans? To discover new pests in the sewers of a true city?
The answer was surprising. It was no underground, hidden creature. This was a tame, domesticated animal, kept in a cage. I was able to document it using my latest invention, the photographocamera:
figure i: a pack of Islak Hamburgers. Note the fluffy, light shell, which serves to protect the tough, meaty interior.
This revelation made an earlier, cryptic note by Diedrick plain to understand:
The red, slickness, basting under the hot flames from above. Many of them squirm and scuttle, fearing the butcher’s blade.
(It was thought that he was under the influence of alcohol, or perhaps recalling a nightmare.)
Even the locals know about this particular clandestine life-form, and even today it is used to feed some lesser wildlife:
figure ii: a local feline awaiting his sup.
The only mystery that remains is thus: why did Diedrick lose touch with reality for fifteen days? Why was the incident never again mentioned in his travel-journal?
Just taste one Islak Hamburger, even in cooked form, and you’ll understand immediately.
