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.