Whatever comes before you...(Ne çıkarsa bahtına)

It is the title of a TV show that I try to watch when I am in Istanbul. It is a dating show. However, I have not seen any young people so far. Participants are mostly over 60 retired men and women.

The show is at 9:30 AM every morning. Its hostess is always dressed in some kind of an evening gown, her bleached blond hair is styled according to her outfit (I assume) with a hair band or a large flower etc. Her earrings hang to her shoulders, make up is well done and she displays a fake smile that she keeps it throughout the conversations. She has a tendency to interrupt her guests to correct their grammar or finish their sentences. She also injects her opinion and elaborates on guests personality traits even though she has just met them.   

Guests come mostly from nearby towns of Istanbul, over 60, who have been divorced or widowed, however, they have not given up on happiness and experiencing love yet. The stage is decorated accordingly, with pink heart shaped balloons etc. Love is in the air.

It is a significant show in terms of understanding economic and social conditions of Türkiye.

Guests introduce themselves as ordinary people, who own an apartment, have a retirement salary, maybe a car. These conditions seemed to be the most important factor in selecting a spouse. Everyone of them have adult children. Then phones start ringing for the further conversations who are interested in meeting the bachelor or the bachelorette on the stage. They start asking questions to each other revealing extra information unintentionally. Some of them have serious health problems, have not taken a part in their children's life for many years and not aware of their whereabouts, childhood problems comes out, as being orphans as well as childhood abuse, not having an education, not holding any skills, etc, nevertheless, each claim to be honest and hard working people. When the story gets too sad, hostess blows her whistle and program musician takes the stage with a sad, but enjoyable song. Audience cheers, starts clapping to the music. The problems are forgotten and guests start dancing with each other.

Every time I watch this show something funny happens and I laugh so much brings tears to my eyes. Today, a female guest's microphone comes loose, while she is passionately dancing to Greek music. Her microphone on her belt loosened, has slided between her legs and wires are hanging under her pants. She does not stop dancing and her body is tangles in such a way she falls down. Everyone on the stage including the hostess and the other guests try to untangle her. Camera zooms in and we see that her pants are being rolled up by the hostess and someone is taking off her shoes etc. Background music continues with its original strength. The situation is so tangled, show goes to advertising. One could not create this scene in Hollywood with the best comedians. It is a priceless.

Participants are real, their concerns, desires are real. I wonder if tears in my eyes are because of the funny situation or the build up of their stories. I cry my heart out.

Adalar...

Last weekend, I went to stay over with my friend Sevil in Burgazada which is the second stop on the ferry route to the Prince's Islands on the Marmara Sea. Sevil has been a friend for many years. She is a mechanical engineer, an accomplished painter and an excellent cook.  Summers are for playing competitive scrabble, canning vegetables, making jams for the winter and she loves the quality of vegetables and fruits she gets from the farmers of Yalova (located south shore of Marmara Sea). 

After a good night sleep, I joined her making blackberry and strawberry jam in the kitchen. Turkish pop music on the background, we start the process. Fruits were left in sugar overnight, now we need to stir them to becoming a jam. I gently hold the wooden spoon and start stirring the blackberries on  very low heat. We melt the sugar and make sure that the fruit does not break as it starts to boil. The rhythms I keep is consistent with the background music. As I stir the heavy syrup, Sevil and I start dancing to Tarkan.

"Biraz param vardı, bitti

Dün işim vardı, bugün yok

Sevgilimde çekti gitti

Yok oğlu yok

Şarkılar da olmasa

Telefonlar da çalmasa

Arkadaşlarım da olmasa

Ne yapardım kimbilir?"

God bless you Tarkan.

As I turn the stove off,  I feel ready to jump into swimming pool. After an evening tea and pastries I catch the ferry to another island where there is another friend :)

Belkıs agrees to meet me at the Büyükada pier that evening. She is a friend from DC. She has variety of activities planed. To my surprise, a lot going on in Büyükada this evening. We decide to go to a classical music concert by Büyükada residences on a small park. It was a lot of fun, very well done. Thanks!

Belkıs is staying in her childhood manor by the water in Büyükada. I had heard about the manor from other friends that it was a magnificent manor by the water under the pine trees, a historic site, etc. I am not much into nostalgia, nevertheless, I am looking forward to experiencing the manor living. After the concert we take the horse baggy to the manor. Belkıs unlocks the kitchen door and I immediately fell into the spell of this house. It is a fine lady with great bones, she displays her age proudly. She does not overwhelm, but captures the visitor with an understated beauty. I feel hüzün for the house. She is lonely. 

Belkis shows me my room. Tall ceilings that are ornamented and two french doors opens to a balcony. There is a bed with a mosquito netting. I am back to reality and thinking how am I going to get through the night fighting the little creatures. Oh, well!

I see the balcony stretching into the Marmara Sea. I have heard that God would open the doors to heaven if you are a good Muslim, in my case those doors are opened by my friend Belkıs who  returns armed with a mosquito spray. She gives me instructions how to slide into bed with a mosquito net. 

I just say OK, OK and sit at the edge of the balcony and let myself enjoy the Marmara Sea at night. Boats are idly moving side to side, the lights from the large boats look like golden needles piercing the sea, sea gulls are busy talking to each other, I am relaxed, ready to slide into my mosquito net and have a good night sleep.

I wake up to a beautiful morning by the sea in a room with the view. As I open my eyes, I notice the lace work on the frame of the balcony doors, then I hear the sea gulls. I walk down the staircase which is curving around the first floor. I enter into an impressive size of dining room. We sit on the veranda with our morning tea. We let ourselves enjoy the view and each others company.

Later, I walk the house bare feet.

Belkıs tells me about the history of the house, her stories take me a century back. I listen with a great interest. We decide to go to the private beach which is few steps away from the veranda. In the meantime, I suggest her to rent the house to for a TV series that we could both star in.

We spent the day swimming, chatting, drinking tea once in a while and making a choice between bean dishes that Belkis cooked a day before. They were delicious Belkıscım. Thanks a million for a special weekend. Your company is the most enjoyable, so is the Köşk and the room with a view.

A taste of my Bodrum...

What can I say about Bodrum?  It is beautiful, has a way of capturing you slowly, the sea is deep navy blue some parts, green some others. The sun is powerful. People live in slow motion, that is, until they start driving.

Bodrum peninsula is bigger than many other major cities in Türkiye. It has busy traffic, huge shopping areas, big corporations,  large signs cover the highway that connects the little beach towns to each other. But highways have very poor signage. 

The way they drive makes one question their sanity, and at the end you find small beaches packed by people with a lot of children around.

Stuff I mention above really bothered me at first.  I was not sure what I expected to see in Bodrum either.

Rediscovering Bodrum would be the only way to enjoy my stay. After all, I was offered a luxurious villa in Ortakent, a car and the beautiful Aegean Sea before me. I know what you all are thinking "just shut up and go swimming." That is exactly what I am going to do.

Looking over my balcony, I could see the minaret looked as if it was raised from the sea.  If I drove keeping my eye on the minaret,  I knew I would be by the shore for sure.

Few minutes later, I was standing by the beach with white chaise lounges with turquoise colored pillows. A young lady appeared to inform me that it was 20 TL to lay on the beach, which is OK, I appreciate the fact that everything has a cost. I opted to walk little further. Looking for a shade, secretly hoping for an area with no children, as if there could be a spot in Türkiye without them. Finally , my eyes locked on a location about 100 yard away from the turquoise pillows. A concrete island, reaching out to the Aegean Sea. A large deck with well made steps to dive in and umbrellas scattered around. It has a sign that reads "Belediye Kahvehanesi" ((Municipal owned), there is no one around, except, a sleepy street dog and a nice coffee house with few people reading daily papers.  I have difficulty keeping my excitement down. I settle on one of the reclining chairs and wait someone to say "you can not sun bathe here"or something to that effect. Instead a young, handsome waiter who had no one else but me to serve, appears to take my orders. I ask about the place and he says the area owned by the Municipal government and operated by his family. Sun bathing and umbrellas are free of charge as long as I place drink orders.

I know why no one is patronizing his beach/coffee house, Turks have tendency to avoid government owned places, because it is open to everyone and it makes them uncomfortable to think they might just share space with some one not up to their own standards.

That Turk is not me.

Rest of the day was great, several ayrans, Turkish coffee and some grilled cheese sandwiches and hours of swimming, I was ready to call my friends around.  I pulled out my cell phone with a good size of contact numbers.  I have my high school and University friends vacationing here. I put aside the idea of calling them for now.

I made one phone call, however, to my cousin Ahmet!

Ahmet is from my maternal side who settled in Bodrum about 25 years ago. He is a veterinarian. He is known by everyone and literally liked by everyone. an eccentric guy, lives in a dirt house which has a large garden with tangerine trees. with his wife, son, two dogs, bunch of cats and many other creatures I do not care to know, plus he breeds rare chicken and roosters in the garden. They are fun.  He is happy to hear from me, immediately, invites me to spend the Sunday with them at a beach - bar area they frequent called DALGA which means wave, but here I am sure it is used for the other meaning. Let me try to explain: DALGA also means hours spent idle with friends. People who dalga sit around and chat nonsense, drink. If you "pass" dalga, you must take pride in doing it. 

I arrived in his house with some presents for his wife and son. They are happy to see me, I am introduced to bunch of animals around plus two kittens just born the other day. I had never seen one before so this was a treat for me as well. They get ready and we drive to Dalga. I forgot how to Dalga and I have a bit of an anxiety in me. I don't want to sound American or try too hard to Dalga. We arrive with our bags and gears and so on and welcomed by two guys sitting by the bar who have been friends forever. Introductions are taken care of by Ahmet's lovely wife Meral and immediately I am nick named Miss DC.

Okan whom Ahmet calls OKI opens up a nice area for us by the water and we start enjoying our day. My kuzen's son is a great little boy he is wearing the watch I brought him with Pirates of the Caribbean theme and all is good we swim, we eat, we talk. There is no real Dalga taken place here only the authentic way of spending the day by the beach with friends. 

Ahmet offers to take me and his son to a small island near on his boat. I am game, I say.

His little son and I helped him prepare his motor boat, he takes his fishing equipment, a large bag of lettuce leaves, engine turned on and we take off.  He tells me the story of the island that it offers nothing special. Just a piece of land, the other side is rocky and rough.. etc. Then he says in his profession he serves the bourgeois who inspire to own pets and eventually realize, it is not so easy. These unwanted animals end up in his clinic and it is how these rabbits we are about to see end up in the island. A client came with 5 rabbits in a cage one day and dropped off in his clinic. That evening Ahmet and his son loaded up his motor boat and dropped the rabbits on the island. He says winters are good for the rabbit, a lot to eat and drink, so they multiplied. Summer are tough he has to make sure they get water and some food. He collects stuff from the restaurants, salad, veggies, specially watermelon skins that rabbits like very much. By the end of the story, we drop anchor near the shore. He jumps into water gently pulls the boat by the shore. We help him to carry the rabbit food to a shady area. As we walk, I see dozens of rabbits running around. They look healthy and happy. We place their food and go swimming. Few minutes later rabbits come to feast. We keep swimming, we don't bother them, they don't bother us. Kaya calls me to swim with him to deeper part of the sea, I am energized and pulling the water harder with my hands and kicking back with my legs.. I want to please Kaya and hope that we will be friends forever...

My day in Kasımpaşa continues...

I make my way to Kasımpaşa one step at a time, first the public bus then the ferry to Karaköy and determined to walk from Karaköy. I feel like a cat who is sniffing her way home after a long absence, and settling back on her pillow by the window as if nothing has changed. Comfortable walk pattern replaces my uncertain look as soon as I pass by the Kasımpaşa Sports lounge. The Kasımpaşa mosque is right at the corner of Kulaksız Caddesi and Bahriye Blvd. A little coffee house resting its back at the wall of the mosque.  Mostly elderly men sitting on short legged chairs called tabure, also used as table. There are ashtrays available, as if they have never been emptied or washed since the neighborhood used to be called Aya Lonka.

I feel the curious eyes following me around. I bet they are expecting me to ask a question, assuming I am lost.  Nothing can be further than that. I am found in Kasimpasa. I linger by the Kasimpasa Camii a bit, and keep on walking.

I walk by the stores on main street, hoping that I will find a similar baklava store where Ahmet Kasim usta  (my dede) baked six trays of baklava every day.

I look for a white marble counter, shelves where the weights for the scale rested, large round copper trays lined up. I look for myself and my brother sitting on the corner with our tatli plates getting ready to take the first bite.

This is the story of  Ahmet Kasım Usta who was born in Ruscuk in Bulgaria with his twin sister Nefise to a Crimean Tatar family in 1898. According the story told by my aunt who has lived the longest with my dede in Kasımpaşa. She is the eldest of four children and also taught Turkish Literature at the Kasımpaşa Lisesi for many years.

Ahmet Kasım's family was torn apart by the Balkan War and by the age 15 he had nobody other than his twin sister. One night he sat by the bedside of Nefise and told her his plans.

- Are you sleeping Nefise? Don't please sleep, We need to talk. You trust me right, you will listen to me right?

- Yes...

- We will go to İstanbul tomorrow.

- Why?

- We will be safer there. Look around us. Everybody is leaving, Nefise. This war is taking a toll on our community. But, I will not go without you. "Anca beraber, kanca beraber" said our mother. You have not forgotten that or have you Nefise? I planned everything. 

- Tell me a fairy tale, Ahmet, so I can have a good night sleep.

Ahmet could not stop talking. He pulled out his map and told Nefise what he planned, how he planned. He said other friends and their families are also planning to leave by the same route.  The more he talked, the deeper Nefise slept.

Next night, Ahmet Kasım prepared the horse. He packed his baklava equipment, water container and prepared a seat on the saddle for Nefise. He was ready to go.

To be continued...

Pilgrimage

Pilgrimage...

My last day in Istanbul before leaving to Bodrum, I set out on a day trip to Kasımpaşa which is located below Beyoğu, where Golden Horn meets Marmara sea. My mother was born and raised here. I have very found memories of the area.

These yearly trips from Ankara to Istanbul were highlights of my childhood memories. We would stay with my grandfather who owned a three level row house on Kulaksız Caddesi and a tatlıcı (primarily baklava) store on the main street. 

I loved having breakfast on the lower level around a tepsi and yer sofrası (a ground spread) with my cousins and aunts. This breakfast room was connected to a large kitchen and a laundry area. Main floor had a large sitting room with fine chairs and sofas, sedirs (divans) in front of the bay windows. The center of the room had a very large copper mangal (brazier) to warm the room when guests arrived, although I never saw it being used. The third floor had bedrooms and an a la turka toilet shared by all of us, etc. It was a nice house. We played in the backyard and could see the Golden Horn shore filled with wooden boats (takas). There was a huge fig tree.  Every morning, after breakfast my mom would take us to Beyoğlu, visit her favorite stores in the passages located under the magnificent apartment buildings. She would shop for textiles then visit the button and belt makers, place orders for her latest creations.  Next day take the tram to Karaköy, she would eat balık ekmek (fish sandwich), we would eat fried potatoes. Her hands holding our hands firmly, we would walk over the Galata bridge to Sultan Hamam area where she would do more shopping. 

My mother loved fashion, she could sew, and followed the latest trends. She walked and talked to the merchants with such gusto. On the way back, we would stop by the grandfather's store. My brother and I would be served baklava, tulumba combo by him. My aunt was the cashier. Somehow I never got bored with these daily walks. After a week or so, we would take the bus to Ankara where my father worked.

Kasımpaşa has a rough reputation among Istanbulians for the reasons I can not comprehend. Best way to explain what I mean is if you intend to insult someone, call that person "Kasımpaşalı" (you are from Kasımpaşa), it would basically cover every insult you intended to make. I leave it to your imagination.

Yes, my mother is Kasımpaşalı. I am proud to admit that  I consider myself Kasımpaşalı as well. As far as I know, people of Kasımpaşa are hard working, honest, talented people.

To be continued...

The highs and lows of Istanbul,

I am blessed with great friends and family. When I visit Istanbul, I am invited to most exclusive clubs and restaurants around the city. Some of these clubs are lined up on the Anatolian side in a cove next to each other with million dollar views of the Princess Islands. One can spend hours just watching the ferries in and out of the piers while sipping a cocktail. It is a pleasure! Each club offer about the same privileges to its members; card playing rooms, bar, extra large swimming pools, luxurious seating around the pool, an elegant restaurant with great food and service. I know! Because I have been to each one several times thanks to my friends. Clubs members are upper class Turks with aristocratic connections to old families or the nouveau riche of Istanbul.

In my book, it is OK to be rich and enjoy a privileged life if you can afford it. I am an American after all.

Today is Sunday and I would like to explore the other coves of Anatolian side. I ready myself with enough sun block lotion and comfortable shoes and I am out by 3 PM. I walk steady and fast towards the sea, I feel a bit lonely, streets are quite and coffee shops are empty! It is a Sunday after all, keep walking.

Finally, I see, some bare footed young men in their bathing trunks who are sitting in front of an apartment building. Few more fast steps bring me to the sign Cadde Bostan Halk Plaji (Cadde Bostan Public Beach) and the smell of grilled meat, mixed with sea breeze hit my face. I take a look behind the bushes before I step onto the beach. OMG! This is a scene one must see! I guess it is safe to swim in the Marmara sea again. People everywhere, families next to each other, some women in burka, some in their sleep wear, some wearing fashionable bathing suits or bikinis. I do not think you could see this anywhere else in the world. I want to scream "JOY TO THE WORLD"

Men outnumber the women. They are in their own world with the pants rolled up by the sea or swimming (I don't want to see what they are wearing:) they are busy having a beach day. I stand at the entrance of the beach area and take long look at the scene.

I say to myself WHY NOT! This is our land, our sea, everyone has a right to enjoy it. I walk into the beach with more determined steps and feel so free and happy! I step over the blankets and cooking utensils to reach the shore.

Children are swimming with their parents, wives are soaking in the water, sun is shining, salads and sandwiches passing around. Families are chasing the ball, some riding a bike or a scooter. Grand pa sleeping under the tree. There are safe guards by the shore.

After all, I am a child of 70's with a hippie spirit! In Istanbul, you find your own cove.

Me, myself and Istanbul

My love affair with Istanbul has started to fade away for the reasons I have hard time explaining. Istanbul looks worn out and aged a bit this time around.

Well maybe, this time I am staying on the Anatolian side of Istanbul which I am not that found of. Maybe, Istanbul needs a face lift or people are fed up with the chaos and they do not care any longer. But I do care how Istanbul looks and feels like.

So, my mission is today to convince myself that my feelings are temporary and that the Anatolian side of Istanbul can excite me as well. I decide to take a walk by the Marmara sea to take in the sights. In a way I want to find out whose fault are these feelings, mine or the Anatolian side of Istanbul. In the  meantime,  I remember the poem of Orhan Veli which starts with "İstanbul'u dinliyorum gözlerim kapalı" which means "Listening to Istanbul with my eyes closed". This poem has meant a lot to me over the years. I do listen to Istanbul with my eyes closed many times. Now I tell myself to forget which side I am on,  just listen to Istanbul and not necessarily with closed eyes.

Orhan Pamuk writes about the good old days of Istanbul which I love reading over and over. But today, I decide to think and write about the present.   

I remember briefly when I was a student at the University of Istanbul, eating a simit and having a cup of tea in Beyazıt Square on a windy day sitting by a courtyard of a mosque. Nothing in the world ever tasted as good. I plan on doing the same today.

Well, today's Istanbul is a different place; with its people, climate, buildings and fewer trees around.  I have hard time accepting it but, that is the truth.

I keep walking and finally make it to Bostancı which is a lovely town by the Marmara Sea. It has one of the busiest piers. I take a seat in a cafe where I can watch people. I get my cup of tea and a simit. So far it is good. It is time I tell myself to close my eyes and listen to Istanbul.

All I hear are the cell phone conversations around me. Everyone has somebody keeping company and a cell phone. I have neither. I feel kind of naked!

I don't think there are any manners in terms of using cell phones in public. Phone rings, immediately they reach to their pockets or handbags to answer it and drop off the group conversation they are just so feverishly involved.

Conversation starts with simple greetings and goes onto really private matters, lasting about five  minutes.  I can not help but hear the whole conversation. That tall guy to my left talks about a broken promise by his brother and he literally curses at his family. He calls some family member a pimp, another a whore.

Older lady with bleached blond hair who is peacefully having her tea and having a pleasant conversation with her friend turns into an angry person when her phone rings. The subject  is her mother-in-law who did not help her financially, even though she promised to do so if she inherited some money. Finally, a young girl talks about her boyfriend not being man enough. She says on many instances he did not stand up for her in some family gatherings and she does not say very nice things about him.

They pour their hearts out and I shamelessly listen to all. I find myself taking sides and even justifying the curse words I hear. I have this giddy feeling knowing their intimate problems.

Maybe he wants to share his anger towards his brother. Maybe she is right about the mother-in-law who was too stingy to help her out or maybe that boyfriend is not mature enough to have such a great girlfriend. 

Yes, I am listening Istanbul my eyes open and having such a great time in Bostancı Kafe with my friends. After all, I know a lot about them and I have also an opinion about each one of them. I think I love being on the Anatolian side and having so many intimate friends all around me. I feel at home and order another cup of tea :)

Last day in Istanbul.

My last day starts just like the fırst day of my stay in Istanbul minus Ayşegül. An elaborate breakfast prepared by Ahmet and Nevin. It has been snowing since yesterday, it is not a pretty view, mud mixed wıth snow. People are out and about, public transportation running smoothly, there are some delays on the highways but that is expected.

An impromptu decision brought me to Istanbul. My friends have been asking me when or  if I would ever come to Istanbul on the Facebook. I responded with same excuses. If I can only get over the flight anxiety etc. We have a sayıng that goes like "breakıng the leg of the devil" which I could not do last few years.

I used to be an impulsive young woman, nowadays I am more cautious. It is hard to believe but true. I do think before I make a decision. Coming to Istanbul was not one of those moments. My imagination was running wild. I pictured Istanbul rainy, noıiy, difficult and capricious. All of a sudden, I wanted to be an Istanbulian. I went online to THY page, bought my ticket and I broke the leg of the devil..

I had a remarkable time ın Istanbul. Friends, family and just being in Istanbul made me enjoy lıfe even more.

I will miss, impromptu gatherings with my friends. It takes a phone call to get 6 or 8 together. Next is having great time in a coffee shop somewhere in Istanbul. Nothing stops us when it comes to MAVRA atmak which means talking about nothing for several hours. I will miss my family members hugging, kissing me and believing that they are happy to see me! I will miss my brother and his wife Nevin a lot wıth their UFO ideas, his lectures, and his great sense of humor. Although we do not agree on a lot of things, I seemed to enjoy his discussions. I started to believe that America is beiınd in every evil ın the world wıth their consumerism and war industry.

I will miss Aygün and her sincere friendship.

Tomorrow mornıng I will say good bye to all. I already feel the heaviness in my heart. I am open to dynamics of the societies. However, I do not want Türkiye to change with times.  I want to keep our unique place in  history and geography

Potpouiri of my stay....

I have 3 more days left in Istanbul. I have done a lot while I was here. There were couple of things I made a point of doing. Seeing my aunts and uncle, spending time with my brother, visiting a Bikram Yoga studio that has recently opened in Istanbul. I did it all. As you may already know that I am a fan of Bikram yoga. I like the discipline, poses and the heat of the room. I also made some good friend there. Bikram yoga makes me challenge myself every day.

I am so happy that I got to spend this time here with my friends and family. I connect with them almost everyday through the usual ways a lot of us connect with each other now a days.

Istanbul is like a beautiful woman....

It is unpredictable, unexpected, moody and beautiful. Istanbul is a sexy city. I feel I am challenged by Istanbul. I must please Istanbul. I should touch Istanbul way lovers touch each other, gently, generously with no inhibitions. I should keep my eyes all over Istanbul, I should inhale Istanbul. I feel jealous if I am not out and about and adoring Istanbul. I should be the only lover she has. So, every day I walk the streets, I take in the sceenes, I smile at Istanbul hoping that she will see me.

Does Istanbul care how I feel about her? Probably not and that makes me work even harder to please Istanbul.

What is nostalgia...

I really do not have any yearning for the past. However, I lived a nostalgic weekend. It started with my high school classmates meeting in the cafeteria of our school. I was very touched when my very close friends showed up for the lunch. We were 13 years old young girls when we arrived in this building which was build for 6 daughters of an Ottoman Emperor. Our back yard was the Bosphourus, I mean that literally. Classrooms had huge marble carved fireplaces, high ceilings were adorned by gilded hand paintings of sceneries etc. It was a simple pleasure to go to school every day. We talked about our days and our teachers. Tulin was most vivid in her description of experiences we had with the teachers. She played the piano. Beyhan was always a lady and preferred to listen, then Rengin arrived with her usual hava. She was delightful as always and told us all about her boyfriends and how she mixed and match them. Finally got her love of her life to propose to her. Sibel made me remember the disco scene we frequented in Istanbul. I loved to dance.  Asuman and Zuhal talk about the year they had to repeat and how happy they were to be together that year. Four and a half hours of sheer fun we had. We had some lunch but do not remember what. Each one of us earned our place in the society as independent women with professions. We are mothers with successful, healthy, happy families. We are ATATURK'S DAUGHTERS.

I have big plans this Sunday. We are going to visit our aunt (paternal side) Dr. Huceste Kumcuoglu (Dinccag) who is 95 years old. Eldest member from my Dinccag side. She lives with her care giver near to her sons Ali and Tunc. She is a doctor of internal medicine, graduating in 1945. We were 8, including our uncle's son Mustafa, Ibrahim Dinccag with his fiance who is a great grand son of the grand uncle from Bafra. We all took turns interviewing my aunt,  trying to find out as much as possible about my family's background. My aunt was in good spirit, she told us about her years in medical school which corresponded to World War II. University of Istanbul was strengthened with the German professors who ran away from Nazi Germany. She says, they were great educators with great sense of humor. They used translators in the classrooms, eventually most of them spoke Turkish and became Turkish citizens. She has 3 classmates alive, they call each other everyday to talk about their blood pressure and sugar levels. I will not take your time with other details but one story I would like to share.

When one of her professor passed away, they found out that he wanted to be buried in a Muslim cemetery. Permission was denied by the government. Luckily she says, one of his student wrote to the ministry of health claiming that professor was a Muslim without really declaring it. His student claimed that professor was heard memorizing and repeating kelimei shaadet. After several more bureaucratic steps and correspondence professor was given permission to be buried in the cemetery of his choice.

I have one more week left in Istanbul.

I would like to define nostalgia as a general interest in the past in its personalities and events rather than lusting or yearning for the past.

Istanbul invites me to lunch and dinner every day and I can not say NO Thanks:)

A while ago, I decided that food was not going to be important part of my life. So, I stopped cooking. Tanju did not take it seriously at first; He thought, I bet, this phase will pass too, just like drinking wheat grass and eating tofu or doing yoga 3 hours a day. I have not cooked anything in the last 3 months. Those of you wondering what we eat, Tanju eats frozen food mostly from the brand called "Lean Cuisine". They are not bad at all. I eat whatever I find around some fruit, apple sauce or at  Tanju's recommendation I eat Lean Cuisine as well. Lean Cuisine is made by Nestlé which also makes Beneful that Rusty eats. So Tanju and Rusty are both being fed by Nestlé.

When I left Istanbul in 1976, eating out meant going to kebab houses or rarely going to a fish restaurant so my parents could drink rakı and socialize with their friends. Those were not that much fun for me and my brother. We would fall a sleep on our chairs. There were also restaurants for lunch only, frequented by the area merchants and businessmen.  I remember going to one of those in Beyoğlu with my father. Chef was a big guy hold a large spoon (I had never seen such large spoon before) standing behind the casserole trays he cooked that morning. It was noisy and crowded. There were only men dressed in ties and suits. Chef handled the large pieces of lamb with his hand to split into exact portions for the patrons. It is a view that I will never forget. I am not sure I ate anything, I was very intimidated.

Well, in Istanbul I am making up for the last 3 months and also for my childhood. I am experiencing a culinary feast in Istanbul. You all know by now that I spend most of my time meeting friends and having many cups of tea and coffee with delicious pastries. Bakeries are very good and readily available almost every corner on every street. Even the chains like Coffee House does a great job. One day Ayşegül and I had pastry filled with leeks and goat cheese and seared on a pan. It was yummy. Later that week I had that infamous expensive lunch in Nişantaşı. My friends and I justified the price by saying "it tasted very good, you could actually taste each piece of fish":)
When I went to Kadıköy to visit Sevil and Şükran, I had home cooked meal by Sevil, with red lentil soup hot red pepper and butter sauce on top followed by stuffed mushrooms and chicken börek finally so sweet pumpkin desert topped with crushed walnuts. The other night, I was invited to dinner by my friend Zuhal. She is a very gracious host. The dinner was home cooking at its best. I have not had just great rice pilav with herbs for a long time. Ellerinize sağlık arkadaşlarım!

The latest trend in Istanbul is esnaf(merchant) restaurants. Those are where area merchant went to eat lunch in olden days. One can find it anywhere these days, does not have to be business area. They offer traditional dishes with a twist like pesto sauce etc. It is hard to mess up home cooking. One needs good ingredients to get the results.

One really stood out was called Subaşı in Grand Bazaar. This one is an authentic merchant restaurant the way my father visited. There is no menu, you can look and point out the dish you would like to have. I had Sebze Türlü (slow stewed mixed vegetables with rice and Manda yogurt. The other one I really enjoyed called Kantin in Nisantaşı. It is in an apartment building, menu is written on a black board. It is simple yet each dish sounds so very appetizing.   Afiyet olsun Istanbul.

Impressions I would like to share...

Thanks to Aygün, I get to see something new almost everyday. My days already filled with going around the city, having tea with friends and family members. Aygün makes each day a little bit more special. She has a great way of making situations more tolerable with a Nasreddin Hodja story or a proverb that fits perfectly. She was telling me about a conversation with her daughter the other day. It goes like this..

Idil (daughter)   So what are the plans today with lale?
Aygun                Lale would like to shop for a leather dress, I will take her to Zeytinburnu
                          (Leather fashion manufacturing area)
Idil                    Ohh, sounds nice. Get me a dress too.

Aygun continues telling me a Hodja story.:

One day, Hodja says to town people that he is going to market. He blows his whistle and yells  if anyone would like to place an order to let him know. People place their orders with him according to their needs from the market. And kids of the village come and ask him to buy whistles for them. One young boy comes by as well and says here is 50 kuruş(cents) and please get me a whistle. Next day hodja comes back from the market and blows his whistle to let the village that he is back. The kids come to ask for their whistles. He takes out a whistle from his pocket and hands it out to the kid who paid for the order and says "you get to blow the whistle if you paid for it"  That's where "Parayı veren düdüğü çalar." in Turkish comes from. (One who pays the piper calls the tune) Apparently, that was the end of that conversation.
 
The other day I noticed that we Turks can express ourselves in such detail that it becomes poetic. Instead of saying that idea is old, they describe it with the change of seasons.  I also noticed that the word "şey" which is literally means "thing" is capable of describing a lot. One can actually make a whole sentence around the word "şey." Get me the şey from the şey and put it in the şey.. In a magical way, I know what to pick and where to put "it".

I love to listen to the Classical Turkish Music. I was lucky enough to be invited to a private concert by the Bosphorous University Alumni Chorous the other night. Dr. Alâeddin Yavaşca, a very famous composer and lyricist was present. Thanks Belgin! It was swell.

All the songs are based on being in love. Love is usually described with an organ of the body, mostly eyes, or a season, mostly spring time, one cries to the point blood replaces their tears for the love of their lives.

One of the song talks about falling in love with a 13 years old girl.


It goes like this:*


she wears a scarf on her beautiful head
her side locks reach down to her eyebrows that look like the new moon
she is just 13, 14 years old
charming, amorus, beautiful village girl


In the morning when a nightingale sings in the garden
she picks roses in bunches
wearing a fragrant hyacinth on her lapel
village girl whose eyes are darkened wıth kohl


come, beautiful village girl, let me take you and elope
let me sprinkle gold on your fancy bridal veil
let me escape these lands with you 
charming, amorous, beautiful village girl


Obviously, this song is about lusting after a young girl, if you know what I mean. However, I also know that it is a very old song and that time girls married by 16 years old.

I had the most fun the other night watching a tv show called "You got Talent". It would be more apropriate to call it "People with no Talent". I have never seen so many untalented people putting them through horrible situations to compete in front of millions. There was a a man who is in his late 60's riding a bike on stage. He rides his bike in circles as the stage permits first few minutes. Then he stands on one pedal and balances himself for a few seconds. Then he starts pedaling his bike backward and runs into the stage lighting and mirrors that were strategically placed. Background music is Black sea folk music. With the stage accident, they all stop all of a sudden. The whole situation is ridiculous. He is eliminated by three judges who are not very articulate either. Later on a young guy comes on stage starts dancing to hip hop music. Music is good and his moves are funny. Judges are happy to see him. One asks his age. He is 15 years old. They ask him about his school and his grades. He says he is failing all his classes, he got low grades in math and geometry he adds that it is his destiny. He hopes that his teacher will hear him give him passing grades after this show. The audience starts applauding him. Camera turns to audience and young girls are waving at him and trying to get his attention. Jury members approve.  I do not know who to be angry at.  My country is full of ironies. I think that is the word best describes Turkiye.


* Original Turkish lyrics


Yemeni bağlamış telli başına
Zülüfleri düşmüş hilal kaşına
Yeni girmiş onüç ondört yaşına
Edalı işveli köylü güzeli


Sabah olmuş öter bahçede bülbül
Durmayıp devşirir demet demet gül
Takınmış göğsüne kokulu sünbül
Gözleri sürmeli köylü güzeli


Gel seni köylü kız alıp kaçayım
Telli duvağına altın saçayım
Seni bu diyardan alıp kaçayım
Edalı işveli köylü güzeli

Take the ferry to Kadıkoy..

I stand out with my turquoise colored coat in the crowd in the coffee shop. Most people prefer to wear black, dark black and gray. My phone rings, Sevil (a friend for 40 years) asks me to cross the bridge to the Antolian side. "Enough is enough" she says. I accept the invitation gleefully. It is a giddy feeling when you are wanted. I feel like a celebrity in Istanbul. After all, it is much more fun to be with friends.

I assure Şükran (Sevil's sister) and Sevil that I can take the ferry across, so they don't have to pick me up. I'll be there, I say.

I embark on a walk towards the Besiktaş ferry pier after I hang up the phone. I keep walking. I am familiar withe area but have not lived here before. Somehow I know I am in the right direction. I also get my groove back. I expertly maneuver around the other pedestrians. Right, left another right and I am ahead of everyone else. I walk steadily. My eyes travels around with the speed I walk. My hunting skills are in full gear. I kind of sniff my way to the right direction.

Throughout my walk, I think to myself that a lot has changed in the area, since the days and also nothing has changed in the area. It is the same Besiktaş market place it has always been with more neon lights, more stores selling electronics etc. combined with familiar smell of fish, bakeries, kebab houses, people and some trash mixed in. I feel better with the nostalgic familiarity.

I hurry towards the boats waiting by the pier. I buy a token for 2 TL and I jump in just before it takes off. I find my seat next to a young girl. I am not the young girl I used to be but I am now an Istanbulian in every age.

Back in Istanbul..

Bodrum was whirl wind trip. Lots of chatting, lots of tea and great food. Highlight of my trip was meeting my cousin's son Kaya. He is 7 years old, very handsome smart boy. He is growing up in a nice environment in Bodrum. They have a beautiful house surrounded by tangerine trees. They share the land with several cats, dogs, chicken and other creatures living near by. Our flight is late in the evening. I am looking forward getting back to Istanbul.

Me and myself in the apartment. I don't know what to do with myself. I try to turn on the TV but can not figure out the remote control devices. I finally get the picture and the sound at the same time on the screen. It is nice to have some sound around me. I calm down and decide to do some house keeping when I wake up.

Zeki Muren

Second day in Bodrum and Şule has joined us for the weekend. Are we the Turkish Golden Girls? Well, maybe, we are about the same age, have similar tastes and really enjoy each others company.

I did not have internet connection when I woke up this morning for the reasons I can not figure out. We have been to Vodafon store  3 times in the last few days. The staff acts very knowledgeable. A good looking young man assured us earlier that I would have internet connection the whole week  after paying kontür price of 25 TL.

Every night I go to sleep thinking that I paid enough to Vodafon to last me for  a week of internet access to find out next morning I cannot connect. It has been a frustrating experience and it is costing me a lot. The word "KONTÜR" is engraved to their vocabulary of their employees.  They keep repeating it relentlessly.

We drive by the tangerine groves. It must be the season, tree branches are reaching to the ground with the weight of the tangerines. We see the seasonal workers picking up the fruit. We go through narrow streets making many right and left turns. I lost count. We stop by my cousin's veterinarian clinic and give him a hug and meet his new puppy pointer named Patato.  

After a brief chat,  we are on our way to Zeki Müren's house. I am pretty sure my Turkish friends know who I am talking about. Just in case you don't know about him; He was a a prominent singer, composer and actor. He dressed effeminately - think Liberace-, wearing large, ornate rings and heavy make up, throughout his very successful career as a singer. He had a voice of an angel and perfection of an opera singer. He was a cultural icon and loved by everyone. 

He lived the second half of his life  in a two level house in Bodrum. It is now turned into a museum.  The house which is close to the water and its decoration are modest when compared to his fame. His painting are displayed on the walls of the house and they are very good abstract water colors.My mom was a great fan of Zeki Müren. I remember a conversation with my mother when I was about 17 years old. It went like this:

- Anne did you know Zeki Müren is gay?

- No way he is an artist with great talent.

- Anne look at him.. don't you see the make up, bouffant hair style and manicured hands?

 -No way, he is an artist. He has to do those things to look good on stage.

-Anne, he wears pink beaded blouses.

-No way, he is an artist..

I couldn't convince her. When I think of it now I am glad I did not.

Bodrum.. Here I come

As we sit in the plane,  the third passenger next to us huddles into her seat. She is a chatty young lady. Immediately, she starts telling us her life story. She has done a lot for her age, 38 she offers without us asking.  Aygün is nice enough to listen and nod her head in agreement about the stuff she talks about. I am not interested.

I wake up to a million dollar view of Bodrum from my short nap. Blue skies, the Aegean, so picturesque!  It is a bit chilly outside. This place is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. There is not much to say, I am in Bodrum.

Morning starts with a nice breakfast. later Aygün goes off to run errands and I work the phones. It is amazing that I have so many friends in this little town. Each is from a different era of my life. This is too emotional. I am not sure how to handle each. I have my cousin Ahmet who is a well known veterinarian in Bodrum. I have not seen for many years. He has a 5 year old son whom I am looking forward to meet. That connection is from my childhood.

I have another high school friend living in Bodrum whom I haven't seen since the school days. There is a couple who has been our friends since we just got married. That means pre-America days. I  feel tired already thinking about the emotional ride I have to take.

Beyoglu to Bodrum. Nerden nereye???...

Yesterday I woke up to a beautiful day in Istanbul. I am going to fly to Bodrum with Aygün. We have four hours free before the flight. I suggested that we walk around Beyoğlu. We walk about 2.5 hours. Aygün is a very resourceful person. She is married to my cousin Ali. I let myself in her hands when we are together.  We have a saying in the family that "every family should have an Aygün" to survive in Istanbul. She know what, when, how to do almost everything.

We take the bus to Taksim Square - think the Union Square of NYC -. We walk down the main street - think Broadway -. It is also the oldest parts of Istanbul. It used to known as Pera from the Greek word Πέραν meaning across from the old city separated by the Golden Horn. In Turkish, it was called Beyoğlu because of Signor Gritti's* mansion that was located near today's Taksim Square. Those who watch Muhteşem Yüzyıl will remember who Signor Gritti was.

Streets are narrow. They end unexpectedly or crossed by another street which connects you to a passage etc. Narrow streets end unexpectedly and start again somewhere else. The area is like a spider web. I think Byzantines liked conspiracy and there were a lot of distrust to each other etc. 

Beyoğlu and its surrounding areas were built mostly by the minorities of the Ottoman Empire.  One can still see their influence today.**

Our stroll takes us from İstiklal Caddesi to Serdar-ı Ekrem Street and by the German Hıgh School. We take a coffee break at a place called LITERA which has a 180 degrees panoromic view of Istanbul. Aygün knows all the tall buildings where you can see Istanbul.

From there on we walk to the Galata kulesi area visiting designer boutiques on the way. That area brings us to Bankalar Caddesi, a narrow street which used to have headquarters of the all the major banks built by Italians during the Ottoman years.

We end up in Karaköy where we take the tram to Kabataş. Kudos to Lale for taking the public transportation all over Istanbul.

Not much has changed in and around Beyogğu, I am happy to report. Actually I find that area has improved a lot. We are chatting while we walk and cross the streets, enter the stores. I feel like "The Girl from Istanbul" I used to be- fearless and carefree. I am hopping from one cobblestone to the another easily. What a freedom! I am so glad to be in Istanbul. I am so glad to be part of this culture.

We are in the THY flight to Bodrum. Thanks to great public transportation we made it to the flight on time without any major hassle. More to come my friends.....

*Beyoğlu means "Son of the Bey (Doge) of Venice", referring to Lodovico Gritti (alternatively known as Alvise Gritti among the Venetians), The area was the base of European merchants, particularly from Genoa and Venice. Following the Fourth Crusade in 1204, and during the Latin Empire of Constantinople (1204–1261), the Venetians were more prominent in Pera. The Dominican Church of St. Paul (1233), today known as the Arap Camii, is from this period. In 1273, Pera was given to the Republic of Genoa by the Byzantine Emperor Michael VIII Palaeologus in return for Genoa's support of the Empire after the Fourth Crusade. In 1348 the Genoese built the famous Galata Tower, one of the most prominent landmarks of Istanbul. Pera (Galata) remained under Genoese control until May 29, 1453 when Constantinople was conquered by Sultan Mehmed II who allowed the Genoese to return back to the city, but Galata was no longer run by a Genoese Podestà.

  

**In the 19th Century, it became home to many European traders, and housed many embassies, especially along the Grande Rue de Péra (today İstiklâl Caddesi). The presence of such a prominent European population - commonly referred to as Levantines - made it the most Westernized part of İstanbul, especially when compared to the Old City at the other side of the Golden Horn, and allowed for introduction of modern technology, fashion, and arts.  

(from Wikipedia)

A Day by the Bosphorus

The weather has not changed ever since I arrived in Istanbul. It is rainy, foggy and sky is gray at all times. Just the way I like it. 

My mother loved Istanbul when it was rainy and foggy. She said wolves which was her maiden name, love rainy and foggy days. My feeling must have a lot to do with that.

My day started just like yesterday. Ayşegül and I talked about what to do for breakfast and got ready for the day. Phone rings and my high school friend Zuhal says that the day belongs to me. The waves of feelings are going through my mind and body. She is my friend for the last 40 years. We were in a group of students in Ataturk Kız Lisesi (girl's high school) assigned to 1B class. The only common thing among us that our elective foreign language was German.  I ended in that class because the English language classes were filled. I remember sitting next to Zuhal first day and feeling really comfortable. I never forgot her and that feeling rest of my life.

She says she is going to be in front of the building in 10 minutes, Ayşegül and I rush down to the lobby. It is pouring down in Istanbul. I am not sure if the wolves like that much rain.

She drives us to a place to have our morning coffee and catch up on the years that we have not seen each other. As we find a table and sit down we start kaynatmaya (chatting to the point it boils). We offer each other intimate information about our kids, husbands, ourselves and mutual acquaintances. She  has to know everything and I have to know all about her. In the meantime, we take turns to explain some of the things we talk about to Ayşegül. I can see that she is amused about the whole situation.

Ayşegül splits from us and I ask Zuhal to drive us by the Bosphorus. We start from the very beginning in  Ortaköy and drive all the way to Sarıyer where the Bosphorus meets Black Sea. It is a long drive, two way street that goes between the water and the historic houses.  Water is choppy. It is emerald green and gray mix. The water is caressing the boats that are lined next to each other on the shore.

I am very happy to see that not much has changed in the neighborhoods we pass by. I see the familiar pastry shops, restaurants, apartment buildings, little parks, boats, tiny streets.

The Bosphorus is breathtakingly beautiful even on a day only the wolves were happy to have.

First full day in the city

Tuesday morning starts with a breakfast with Ayşegül, again. She is a beautiful young lady with a mild smile. She says she will spend the day with me. We stop by the hair dresser and get a wash and blow dry on the way to Nişantaşı. It is a fancy area which can described as the 5th Avenue of Istanbul. It is in a walking distance from the the apartment. She suggests to take a short cut by climbing a few steps. We start climbing but I don't see where they end where she is pointing at up there.   She says she has counted 180 steps, and cheerfully adds that I can do it. We climb the steps one by one to reach the top. 


Then a steep hill awaits us. We keep walking up and chatting. This is a residential area. Both sides of the street lined up with mid size apartment buildings that were probably built in the 1970s.  Each building has a name like Lale Apartmanı, Cevdet Koçer Apartmanı as if they were named represent the strength or personality of the property's owner.

Finally, I see  the boutique signs:)  My hunter instincts are in full gear. I want to visit each and every one of them. I am now in heaven. Leather jackets, coats, shoes, frilly dresses etc. adorn the storefronts. Each offers something better than the other. I try on a leather jacket and like it very much but this is just a start we will look further.

Aygün meets us at a restaurant that Ayşegül wanted to try. It is a nicely, simply decorated restaurant with a pub feeling. Lots of nice looking ladies with expensive outfits having lunch.  There is hardly any man in the whole place. Actually there was only one maybe two guys in the place. I suspect that this place have very small portions that are expensive. Eventually I find out that it is both.

I had the most expensive soup of my life in Nişantaşı. You, my friends will never know how much I paid for a cup of soup. Because it is an embarrassing amount.

My brother and Nevin came over to have dinner with us. Ayşegül and I decide that we can not afford to go out to dinner. We made fettuccine with marinara sauce and had a wonderful time laughing and reminiscing old times.

OMG!

My brother and Nevin live in a suburb of İstanbul.  My dear brother gently lets me know that he is going to deliver my luggage to Ayşegül's (his daughter/my niece) apartment sometime in the afternoon before he leaves for the hospital. I will stay with her for the next few days which is going to be a great treat for me. I will be in a luxury apartment in a fashionable part of the city. OMG…It is so cool.

Ayşegül and I decide to take the express bus from Bahçeşehir to the Taksim Square after breakfast. Public transport is the way to go around in İstanbul. We get to our destination in 35 minutes. I have been hearing from friends that traffic is worse than before in İstanbul. I convinced myself that it is just a rumor, an exaggeration by the people who are not familiar with İstanbul which never had a good traffic in the first place.  We hop off the bus feeling good.

I follow Ayşegül who immediately waves down a taxi to take us to her apartment. We settle down comfortably in the cab but my confidence in the İstanbul traffic starts to wane quickly because we have not moved for the 20 minutes or so.  I suggest that we should get off the taxi and just walk.  Ayşegül does not think it is a good idea. So we sit quietly. I can feel the driver is getting impatient with the traffic and he says he is sorry that he took us. But he says he tries not to be choosy when he picks up his fares! Then he goes "Everyone deserves a fair chance after all". Ayşegül chimes in with agreement that's how it should be.  I feel threatened but keep quiet.  We are moving very slowly.  Ayşegül asks the driver make a right turn, all of a sudden traffic opens up as if  it was never congested. İstanbul!

I am not familiar wıth the area but I have a general idea where we are. We stop in front of a recently built skyscraper. Ayşegül opens the doors with her magic card and off we are to the 13th floor. Her apartment is beautiful, wıth a million dollar view of Bosphorous.  In meantime, I work the phones and Aygün is coming to pick me up to meet Nesrin who is also a very good friend and married to my other cousin in a couple of hours in Ortaköy.

I surf the web and check in with one of my favorite sites, Pomegranate Vintage to see what is new there. It is only 2 o'clock ın the afternoon when we meet Nesrın. It feels good to be friends. We walk by the street vendors who are hawking. Aygun responds "yok, yok teşekkürler" (no, thank you) One of them shouts back that he appreciates her saying thank you. These guys are funny but he probably genuinely appreciates it.

We are at a coffee house/ bar with Xmas tree in its midst in Ortaköy by the Bosphorus. Tankers are cruising up and down. Kisses, hugs and without losing any time, we start chatting, pouring our hearts out to each other for the next 3 hours with the waiter pouring tea or coffee in our cups.  We order pastries and fruit tarts but never stop chatting.