.
More Turkish Delights:
.
UNSPED
A delivery service.
.
TOP MODELS
Sadly, a shop featuring remote controlled toys
.
ORGANIC TOPLESS
While I have always preferred toplessness to be organic, this is unfortunately only a fashionable clothing shop for women in Ortakoy.
.
TITIZ
North America has Hooters, but Turkey has Titiz. While Hooters has a large, varied menu, Titiz specializes in chicken, our favorite being slowly spit-roasted birds, scissor-snipped in half before being wrapped in heat-retaining aluminum/paper foil. Clearly, both franchises depend heavily upon breast meat.
.
Random Observations:
.
1. No Squirrels in Istanbul: Whether it is due to the sustained human presence here, the lack of enough large green spaces, or the millions of feral cats, I have yet to see a squirrel, despite my many hours spent reading in the Kurucesme cemetery.
.
2. T-Shirts: These are favored apparel among the younger set. What is striking is that the inscriptions are almost universally in English. The most popular include invented American colleges (Univ. of Cal. South, Texas Univ., etc., but never Notre Dame), and variations on Abercrombie and Fitch: A & Fitch, Abc. & F, A & F, Fitch, usually with dates in the 1920s. The lettering is frequently raised and frayed, to give it that "authentic" 1920s T-shirt look.
.
3. DURACAK: When you are about to reach your bus stop, you struggle your way to your feet, fighting gravity, inertia and overcrowding, and press a red button on one of the metal rails that surround the interior of the vehicle. This alerts the driver of your intention to leave the bus. A lighted panel comes on above his head, reading DURACAK, and gives him an approximation of the exit door nearest to where you pushed the button. It also lets other passengers know that they were correct in waiting for you to fight their way up to push the button.
.
Here’s my problem: “Duracak” is pronounced ‘doo-rah-jock’, so every time I push the button and the little sign lights up above the driver’s head, my brain sings, “Hit ‘doo-rah-jock,’ an’ don’t’cha come back no mo,’ no mo, hit ‘doo-rah-jock,’ an’ don’t’cha back no mo.’” ARRGGH!
.
More Fonetik Spelinj:
.
Akustik = Acoustic
Akvaryum = Aquarium
Biyoloji = Biology
Deterjan = Detergent
Dizayn = Design
Ekselans = Excellence
Etiket = Etiquette
Fisikal = Physical
Ingilizce = English
Kokteyl Sosis = Cocktail Sausage
Konferans = Conference
Konsantre = Concentrate
Lobi = Lobby
Meksika = Mexico
Milyon = Million
Pasifik = Pacific
Portekiz = Portuguese
Promosyon = Promotion
Ritim = Rhythm
Sosyal = Social
Meanderthal
.
He walks at night, solitary, senses on edge. His eyesight, dim during the daytime, is enhanced by the darkness. His occasional companion is a large neighborhood dog (male, Golden Lab-Mastiff mix) that he has named Rufus. The Meanderthal has never given Rufus anything but love. Others leave him food, but shoo him away when he comes near. When the Meanderthal is walking with Rufus and others dogs or humans approach, Rufus growls a deep, menacing warning. Meanderthal has a friend.
.
On a clear night, the Asian side of the Bosphorous looks to the Meanderthal like a huge black opal pendant viewed horizontally through a magnifying glass. The lights from the thousands of artificial light-sources behind the hills (east) create a sparkling, undulating skyline. From there to the water, the sharp colors of daytime blend into the softer hues of beige, orange and blue. Celebratory fireworks from behind the skyline add frequent, silent accents.
.
The Bosphorous Bridge offers a free light-show every night. It is a huge suspension bridge, with an aerodynamic deck hanging on zigzag steel cables. Upon completion in 1973, it was the world’s longest suspension bridge outside the U.S.A. The pillars and all the cables are covered with alternating lights in primary colors. Therefore, the colors can be manipulated to blend into secondary and tertiary colors. The lights can also be flashed or tiled in different sequences, vertically, horizontally, diagonally, or in waves that change color several times in differing combinations of color and direction. All this takes place while vehicles are moving over the bridge at speed. If he were driving, the Meanderthal would not survive due to acute artistic distraction.
.
Rufus visits Meanderthal during the daytime, when he is reading in the cemetery. For such a large dog, Rufus moves very quietly, and frequently surprises Meanderthal when he suddenly appears on a grave above him, snuffling a moist welcome. Meanderthal puts down his book (he’s been rereading Tolstoy's "War and Peace") and vigorously scratches Rufus under the chin. If Meandertahl returns to his book before Rufus feels he’s had enough scratching, he lets Meanderthal know by softly whining and nudging his shoulder with drool. Rufus is never refused more attention.
.
Meanderthal has moved to another temporary shelter, away from his favorite haunts. He still walks at night, but without the black opal pendant, the lighted bridge and, especially, without Rufus.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
The Floating Island
.
Almost directly below our hilltop vantage point is a floating island, a large, rectangular, commercial platform anchored to the shale floor of the Bosphorous. This artificial island was constructed by an organization supporting a local, wealthy professional football team, Galatasaray (a compound word with five "A"s!). Galata* is a district of Istanbul on the north-eastern tip of the Golden Horn, originally a Genoese enclave. Saray is the Turkish word for "palace."
.
The floating Galata Palace features four restaurants, a disco (with lights that flash so intensely that I worry for the epileptics), and an Olympic-sized swimming pool (empty in winter, illuminated with blue lights in summer; although I have seen people jogging around the decks, I have never seen anyone swimming in the pool). There must be all sorts of things I cannot see from my perch on the cliffs above. Maybe the Divine Ms. N. and I will make a visit before we move to Ulus (a district closer to the school) in July. All we have to do is make a reservation at one of the restaurants, walk down to the water, climb aboard one of the constantly circling shuttle boats, step aboard the Palace, announce our restaurant reservations (pretending to be tourists), then find unobtrusive reasons to go exploring. (I’m very good at doing this sort of thing very badly, but I apologize and blush well, and have yet to be arrested.) We’ll see ...
.
Now that summer has arrived, the Galata Palace has become the host to frequent, annoyingly loud outdoor concerts. Hundreds of chairs are set up on the Asian side of the floating platform. A stage is constructed during the day and taken down the next morning (unless there is another cacophonausea event scheduled for the following evening). The stage, situated at the southern end of the platform, consists of three walls mounted with huge video screens that show ... what? Flashes of live performers? Videos from a simultaneous off-platform concert? I don’t care ...
.
So many people attend these events that entrepreneurs consider it worth the expense to send out illuminated billboards aboard small motor boats. These craft feature brightly lit signs that scroll up and down with alternating advertisements. I cannot see what they are peddling, but it’s a good guess that chocolate is in there somewhere.
.
.
*Being Christians, the citizens of Galata unsuccessfully tried to protect Constantinople during the siege of 1453 by stretching a heavy metal chain across the mouth of the Horn, preventing the Ottoman navy from entering this vital estuary. The chain worked for the simple reason that the Genoese ships, designed for deep waters and wind power, rose much higher above the water than the Turkish vessels. The Turkish boats had sails but depended more upon oar power (provided by slaves who were chained to their benches). So whenever the Turks approached the chain, the Genoese would rain down a hail of arrows on them that would thwart the attack. This tactic worked until Sultan Mehmet Fatih (Mehmet the Conqueror) ordered that the Turkish boats be hauled overland and refloated in the Golden Horn at its brackish western end. After that, Galata was doomed, the large sailing vessels trapped by their own chain. Pieces of the chain can still be found (and touched) at different museum sites around the city.
Almost directly below our hilltop vantage point is a floating island, a large, rectangular, commercial platform anchored to the shale floor of the Bosphorous. This artificial island was constructed by an organization supporting a local, wealthy professional football team, Galatasaray (a compound word with five "A"s!). Galata* is a district of Istanbul on the north-eastern tip of the Golden Horn, originally a Genoese enclave. Saray is the Turkish word for "palace."
.
The floating Galata Palace features four restaurants, a disco (with lights that flash so intensely that I worry for the epileptics), and an Olympic-sized swimming pool (empty in winter, illuminated with blue lights in summer; although I have seen people jogging around the decks, I have never seen anyone swimming in the pool). There must be all sorts of things I cannot see from my perch on the cliffs above. Maybe the Divine Ms. N. and I will make a visit before we move to Ulus (a district closer to the school) in July. All we have to do is make a reservation at one of the restaurants, walk down to the water, climb aboard one of the constantly circling shuttle boats, step aboard the Palace, announce our restaurant reservations (pretending to be tourists), then find unobtrusive reasons to go exploring. (I’m very good at doing this sort of thing very badly, but I apologize and blush well, and have yet to be arrested.) We’ll see ...
.
Now that summer has arrived, the Galata Palace has become the host to frequent, annoyingly loud outdoor concerts. Hundreds of chairs are set up on the Asian side of the floating platform. A stage is constructed during the day and taken down the next morning (unless there is another cacophonausea event scheduled for the following evening). The stage, situated at the southern end of the platform, consists of three walls mounted with huge video screens that show ... what? Flashes of live performers? Videos from a simultaneous off-platform concert? I don’t care ...
.
So many people attend these events that entrepreneurs consider it worth the expense to send out illuminated billboards aboard small motor boats. These craft feature brightly lit signs that scroll up and down with alternating advertisements. I cannot see what they are peddling, but it’s a good guess that chocolate is in there somewhere.
.
.
*Being Christians, the citizens of Galata unsuccessfully tried to protect Constantinople during the siege of 1453 by stretching a heavy metal chain across the mouth of the Horn, preventing the Ottoman navy from entering this vital estuary. The chain worked for the simple reason that the Genoese ships, designed for deep waters and wind power, rose much higher above the water than the Turkish vessels. The Turkish boats had sails but depended more upon oar power (provided by slaves who were chained to their benches). So whenever the Turks approached the chain, the Genoese would rain down a hail of arrows on them that would thwart the attack. This tactic worked until Sultan Mehmet Fatih (Mehmet the Conqueror) ordered that the Turkish boats be hauled overland and refloated in the Golden Horn at its brackish western end. After that, Galata was doomed, the large sailing vessels trapped by their own chain. Pieces of the chain can still be found (and touched) at different museum sites around the city.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
How to Park a Boat Along the Bosphorous
.
Nancy and I have lived in a cozy apartment in a cliff-top hamlet (sans ham) above the Bosphorous for almost nine months now, and we have watched many boats and ships slip beneath us in the world’s most famous trans-continental waterway. We have crossed above the channel on its two great bridges many times (always slowly -- traffic is horrible here), and churned over its turbulent surface aboard ferries.
.
In addition, I frequently walk along the European shoreline between the bridges, and have even ventured into the Sea of Marmara on an unplanned visit to the Prince’s Islands. Based upon these observations, I am now prepared to declare that there exists no such thing as a marina along the Bosphorous between the second bridge and the Sea of Marmara. FACT: boats along the Bosphorous must park perpendicularly.
.
Huge vessels such as international tour ships (those gigantic, floating castles that, like bloated seafaring fairy godmothers, appear and disappear in the night) are allowed to sidle up to the shore and park in a parallel fashion. Also, the many state-run ferries and some gigantic yachts are permitted to park parallel to the concrete shores for two reasons: 1) If they parked perpendicularly, they would jut out too far into the Bosphorous and endanger other water traffic; and 2) I don’t know, but I’m sure a lot of money is involved.
.
Boat Parking Procedures
.
1) Small Boats (mostly independent fishers, but some serve as private water taxis; composition -- wood with cabin; crew, 1-2)
.
Slowly approach the concrete shoreline until the bow makes a soft contact. Leave the motor running and the rudder straight. Carefully climb off the boat and tie it to the shore using the ropes you left there near the ancient, rusted cleats jutting from the concrete. Make sure your boat has a few sealed plastic bottles almost full of filthy brown water hanging from both sides; this will avoid lateral damage from the other small boats next to which you have parked when the winds increase. Climb back aboard, turn off your motor and then disembark the vessel, leaving it to the stasis of barnacle growth, mold, wood rot, and the curious currents above (carrying the cormorants and gulls), and below (carrying the jellyfish and plastic pollution).
.
2) Medium to large-sized boats (almost always for rent from waterside agencies) or privately-owned motor launches, but including many multilevel, double-masted sailing vessels with bars on every deck, flat-screen TVs, and cheerfully seating more than the law permits; crew size is determined by the number of bars/renters.
.
The following scenario takes place at night:
.
Skipper: Turn on both forward and rear spotlights. (In the really cool boats, the rear lights include submerged black-lights, operating whenever the boat is ‘on.’ When such a boat is stationary, the jellyfish make a spectacular, southbound, luminescent parade of palpitating parachutes.) Slowly approach the rented buoy assigned to your parking slot. (The buoy is a metal, brightly painted, cone-shaped bobber larger than a 50-gallon oil barrel anchored to the floor of the Bosphorous by a thick metal chain).
.
Deck Hand: Stand poised at the prow wielding a long pole with a hook at the end. Once the buoy is in sight, alert the Skipper.
.
Skipper: At the Deck Hand’s call, shift the engine into neutral gear.
.
Deck Hand: Carefully lunge for the clasp until you snag the buoy. This may take several passes, considering the winds and currents. Eventually attach the bow rope to the buoy. Remove the hook from the buoy clasp and replace the pole to its secured position.
.
Skipper: Carefully begin backing the vessel toward your rented niche, pulling up the slack buoy rope.
.
Deck Hand: Scamper aft, heaving the large, attached plastic bumpers overboard on one side. Wait until the boat is close enough to the shore for you to leap off safely. Jump ashore. Attach the stern ropes to the shore clamps. Jump back aboard before the Skipper shifts forward.
.
Skipper: Shift forward and tighten the stern ropes.
.
Deck Hand: Scurry forward, heaving the bumpers overboard on the other side, then pull in the slack from the bow rope.
.
Skipper: Shift into reverse and tighten the bow rope.
.
Deck Hand: Scamper back and tighten the stern ropes.
.
Skipper and Hand: Repeat this procedure until the boat is securely triangulated between the buoy and the shore clamps.
.
Deck Hand: Lower the gangway.
.
Skipper: Turn off the engines, but leave the black-lights on so the departing guests can enjoy the jellyfish parade passing between the boat and the concrete shore.
.
Skipper and Hand: After the guests have left the vessel, drink raki and smoke cigarettes. Don’t forget to turn off the black-lights.
Nancy and I have lived in a cozy apartment in a cliff-top hamlet (sans ham) above the Bosphorous for almost nine months now, and we have watched many boats and ships slip beneath us in the world’s most famous trans-continental waterway. We have crossed above the channel on its two great bridges many times (always slowly -- traffic is horrible here), and churned over its turbulent surface aboard ferries.
.
In addition, I frequently walk along the European shoreline between the bridges, and have even ventured into the Sea of Marmara on an unplanned visit to the Prince’s Islands. Based upon these observations, I am now prepared to declare that there exists no such thing as a marina along the Bosphorous between the second bridge and the Sea of Marmara. FACT: boats along the Bosphorous must park perpendicularly.
.
Huge vessels such as international tour ships (those gigantic, floating castles that, like bloated seafaring fairy godmothers, appear and disappear in the night) are allowed to sidle up to the shore and park in a parallel fashion. Also, the many state-run ferries and some gigantic yachts are permitted to park parallel to the concrete shores for two reasons: 1) If they parked perpendicularly, they would jut out too far into the Bosphorous and endanger other water traffic; and 2) I don’t know, but I’m sure a lot of money is involved.
.
Boat Parking Procedures
.
1) Small Boats (mostly independent fishers, but some serve as private water taxis; composition -- wood with cabin; crew, 1-2)
.
Slowly approach the concrete shoreline until the bow makes a soft contact. Leave the motor running and the rudder straight. Carefully climb off the boat and tie it to the shore using the ropes you left there near the ancient, rusted cleats jutting from the concrete. Make sure your boat has a few sealed plastic bottles almost full of filthy brown water hanging from both sides; this will avoid lateral damage from the other small boats next to which you have parked when the winds increase. Climb back aboard, turn off your motor and then disembark the vessel, leaving it to the stasis of barnacle growth, mold, wood rot, and the curious currents above (carrying the cormorants and gulls), and below (carrying the jellyfish and plastic pollution).
.
2) Medium to large-sized boats (almost always for rent from waterside agencies) or privately-owned motor launches, but including many multilevel, double-masted sailing vessels with bars on every deck, flat-screen TVs, and cheerfully seating more than the law permits; crew size is determined by the number of bars/renters.
.
The following scenario takes place at night:
.
Skipper: Turn on both forward and rear spotlights. (In the really cool boats, the rear lights include submerged black-lights, operating whenever the boat is ‘on.’ When such a boat is stationary, the jellyfish make a spectacular, southbound, luminescent parade of palpitating parachutes.) Slowly approach the rented buoy assigned to your parking slot. (The buoy is a metal, brightly painted, cone-shaped bobber larger than a 50-gallon oil barrel anchored to the floor of the Bosphorous by a thick metal chain).
.
Deck Hand: Stand poised at the prow wielding a long pole with a hook at the end. Once the buoy is in sight, alert the Skipper.
.
Skipper: At the Deck Hand’s call, shift the engine into neutral gear.
.
Deck Hand: Carefully lunge for the clasp until you snag the buoy. This may take several passes, considering the winds and currents. Eventually attach the bow rope to the buoy. Remove the hook from the buoy clasp and replace the pole to its secured position.
.
Skipper: Carefully begin backing the vessel toward your rented niche, pulling up the slack buoy rope.
.
Deck Hand: Scamper aft, heaving the large, attached plastic bumpers overboard on one side. Wait until the boat is close enough to the shore for you to leap off safely. Jump ashore. Attach the stern ropes to the shore clamps. Jump back aboard before the Skipper shifts forward.
.
Skipper: Shift forward and tighten the stern ropes.
.
Deck Hand: Scurry forward, heaving the bumpers overboard on the other side, then pull in the slack from the bow rope.
.
Skipper: Shift into reverse and tighten the bow rope.
.
Deck Hand: Scamper back and tighten the stern ropes.
.
Skipper and Hand: Repeat this procedure until the boat is securely triangulated between the buoy and the shore clamps.
.
Deck Hand: Lower the gangway.
.
Skipper: Turn off the engines, but leave the black-lights on so the departing guests can enjoy the jellyfish parade passing between the boat and the concrete shore.
.
Skipper and Hand: After the guests have left the vessel, drink raki and smoke cigarettes. Don’t forget to turn off the black-lights.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Istantidbits II
.
Two interesting Turkish products I have encountered:
.
1. RASH men’s briefs
2. DROP toilet paper
.
During busy traffic times, sidewalk peddlers will venture into the stalled traffic lanes, hawking their products: roses, bottled water, facial tissue, candy, etc. My favorite was a man I saw last summer while I was still living on the Asian side. He was selling pigeons. The birds were contained in a large cage balanced atop his head. Above that were strapped small cages for the individual birds, should he find an interested buyer. I could not see what sort of cage liner, if any, protected his head.
.
We live at a bus terminus, and our school is at another terminus. This is very convenient, because we do not need to watch for our stop. We just wait until we get to the end, which is very comforting in a land where you cannot ask a question because you will not understand the answer.
.
There is a very strict anti-smoking campaign in Turkey. According to the ubiquitous posters, anyone caught smoking indoors will be fined 67 TL (Turkish Lira). Caught by whom? The cigarette police? (My proposed uniform: red shoes, long grey socks, white Capri pants, jacket and gloves, tall beige hat with lipstick stain.) Why 67 TL? Why not 65 or 70? My guess is inconvenience. There are no 1 TL bills, only heavy 1 TL coins. Once fined, the shamed and repentant offender must now lug around a pocket full of heavy change. Boy, that’d make me think twice before I smoked indoors again!
.
Anyway, the bus drivers, having been denied their nicotine fix for the duration of their route, will start smoking one or two stops before the end of the line, depending upon the number of people still on the vehicle. Why not? There are only a few civilians left on the bus, and the driver can easily detect a cigarette cop by his distinctive uniform. So, it’s light up time! My advice: don’t sit behind the rider when the horse can smell the barn.
.
More Fonetik Spelinj:
.
Advantage = Avataj
Amateur = Amatö
Auto coach = Otokoç
Barrier = Baryer
Buffet = Büfe
Carriage = Karaj
Clarinet = Klarnet
Energy = Enerji
Gooey = Guy
Guarantee = Garanti
Gymnastic = Jimnastik
League = Lig
Lilac = Laylak
Maneuver = Manevra
Maniac = Manyak
Off side = Ofsayt
Option = Opsyon
Porcelain = Porselen
Season = Sezon
Social = Sosyal
Technology = Teknoloji
Two interesting Turkish products I have encountered:
.
1. RASH men’s briefs
2. DROP toilet paper
.
During busy traffic times, sidewalk peddlers will venture into the stalled traffic lanes, hawking their products: roses, bottled water, facial tissue, candy, etc. My favorite was a man I saw last summer while I was still living on the Asian side. He was selling pigeons. The birds were contained in a large cage balanced atop his head. Above that were strapped small cages for the individual birds, should he find an interested buyer. I could not see what sort of cage liner, if any, protected his head.
.
We live at a bus terminus, and our school is at another terminus. This is very convenient, because we do not need to watch for our stop. We just wait until we get to the end, which is very comforting in a land where you cannot ask a question because you will not understand the answer.
.
There is a very strict anti-smoking campaign in Turkey. According to the ubiquitous posters, anyone caught smoking indoors will be fined 67 TL (Turkish Lira). Caught by whom? The cigarette police? (My proposed uniform: red shoes, long grey socks, white Capri pants, jacket and gloves, tall beige hat with lipstick stain.) Why 67 TL? Why not 65 or 70? My guess is inconvenience. There are no 1 TL bills, only heavy 1 TL coins. Once fined, the shamed and repentant offender must now lug around a pocket full of heavy change. Boy, that’d make me think twice before I smoked indoors again!
.
Anyway, the bus drivers, having been denied their nicotine fix for the duration of their route, will start smoking one or two stops before the end of the line, depending upon the number of people still on the vehicle. Why not? There are only a few civilians left on the bus, and the driver can easily detect a cigarette cop by his distinctive uniform. So, it’s light up time! My advice: don’t sit behind the rider when the horse can smell the barn.
.
More Fonetik Spelinj:
.
Advantage = Avataj
Amateur = Amatö
Auto coach = Otokoç
Barrier = Baryer
Buffet = Büfe
Carriage = Karaj
Clarinet = Klarnet
Energy = Enerji
Gooey = Guy
Guarantee = Garanti
Gymnastic = Jimnastik
League = Lig
Lilac = Laylak
Maneuver = Manevra
Maniac = Manyak
Off side = Ofsayt
Option = Opsyon
Porcelain = Porselen
Season = Sezon
Social = Sosyal
Technology = Teknoloji
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Upon Seeing "Avatar" Twice
.
Soon after it appeared in Turkish theaters, Nancy and I attended a screening of the motion picture Avatar. I don’t know if our experience represented the norm for all movie houses here, but I want to share our first movie experience in Turkey, another slice of the unique pie that makes this place so intriguing. Here is your guided tour:
.
First, you must find a movie theater. Most large shopping malls feature small cineplexes, but some movie houses can be found in older areas that cater to the evening crowd. The former are easy to find, the latter not as easy. We chose the latter, funkier variety.
.
You will enter the theater through a narrow passaji (corridor); above the entrance will be a small, badly illuminated marquee announcing the films currently showing. You will buy a ticket for an assigned seat, as one might expect for a concert hall or opera house. You can expect to wait in a small gathering space with no concessions. Most ticket holders will choose to wait outside, where they can smoke. When the previous audience has exited the theater, you will be allowed in to find your seat. Ushers will guide you. (Since this was a blockbuster film, if you got a bad seat, too bad; every seat had a butt in it.) The screen curtain will open and the film will begin at the advertised time.
.
Exactly 90 minutes later, no matter what is happening on the screen, the film will suddenly stop without warning. The house lights will come up, the curtain will close, and the majority of the audience will arise and leave the theater to pee, check their phones for text messages, but mostly to go outside and have a smoke. Meanwhile, tray-bearing vendors will ply the aisles, selling candy bars, gum, stale, unsalted popcorn, room temperature cans of soda, hot tea, and bottled water.
.
After a certain interval, the house lights will dim, the screen will re-open and the movie (backed up a few frames to help the viewer get reoriented) will resume without notice, whether the audience has returned or not. Hence, there will be a parade of late-returners reeking of smoke, leaving a muttered "pardon" trail as they step on your toes while blocking your view of the screen.
.
At the end of the film, as soon as the credits and digitally-manipulated orchestral postlude begins, the screen will go black and the audience will begin to exit. Want to know who wrote, composed, directed, etc.? Too bad: time to hit the road, Jack. You will leave through an exit different from where you entered. You will emerge on a back street behind the theater and follow the crowd (remember, there is safety in numbers, ask any schooling fish) to the nearest main thoroughfare. You will squeeze past people seated at tables along the sidewalk eating dinner, drinking and smoking, playing backgammon, etc.
.
We attended the same film in Germany two weeks later, this time wearing those uncomfortable 3D plastic eye abominations. Major differences: a huge theater clearly set aside for its sole purpose, giant neon marquees, rows of concession booths (including a variety of beers), sit where you like, small audience, no intermission, and full credits at the end.
.
I preferred the Turkish experience.
Soon after it appeared in Turkish theaters, Nancy and I attended a screening of the motion picture Avatar. I don’t know if our experience represented the norm for all movie houses here, but I want to share our first movie experience in Turkey, another slice of the unique pie that makes this place so intriguing. Here is your guided tour:
.
First, you must find a movie theater. Most large shopping malls feature small cineplexes, but some movie houses can be found in older areas that cater to the evening crowd. The former are easy to find, the latter not as easy. We chose the latter, funkier variety.
.
You will enter the theater through a narrow passaji (corridor); above the entrance will be a small, badly illuminated marquee announcing the films currently showing. You will buy a ticket for an assigned seat, as one might expect for a concert hall or opera house. You can expect to wait in a small gathering space with no concessions. Most ticket holders will choose to wait outside, where they can smoke. When the previous audience has exited the theater, you will be allowed in to find your seat. Ushers will guide you. (Since this was a blockbuster film, if you got a bad seat, too bad; every seat had a butt in it.) The screen curtain will open and the film will begin at the advertised time.
.
Exactly 90 minutes later, no matter what is happening on the screen, the film will suddenly stop without warning. The house lights will come up, the curtain will close, and the majority of the audience will arise and leave the theater to pee, check their phones for text messages, but mostly to go outside and have a smoke. Meanwhile, tray-bearing vendors will ply the aisles, selling candy bars, gum, stale, unsalted popcorn, room temperature cans of soda, hot tea, and bottled water.
.
After a certain interval, the house lights will dim, the screen will re-open and the movie (backed up a few frames to help the viewer get reoriented) will resume without notice, whether the audience has returned or not. Hence, there will be a parade of late-returners reeking of smoke, leaving a muttered "pardon" trail as they step on your toes while blocking your view of the screen.
.
At the end of the film, as soon as the credits and digitally-manipulated orchestral postlude begins, the screen will go black and the audience will begin to exit. Want to know who wrote, composed, directed, etc.? Too bad: time to hit the road, Jack. You will leave through an exit different from where you entered. You will emerge on a back street behind the theater and follow the crowd (remember, there is safety in numbers, ask any schooling fish) to the nearest main thoroughfare. You will squeeze past people seated at tables along the sidewalk eating dinner, drinking and smoking, playing backgammon, etc.
.
We attended the same film in Germany two weeks later, this time wearing those uncomfortable 3D plastic eye abominations. Major differences: a huge theater clearly set aside for its sole purpose, giant neon marquees, rows of concession booths (including a variety of beers), sit where you like, small audience, no intermission, and full credits at the end.
.
I preferred the Turkish experience.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Upon Being Ozzified
.
Last week, Nancy and I returned to Istanbul from Kansas. In the meantime, we spent a lot of time in Munchkinland, a haunted forest, a witch’s castle, and in the Emerald City (not Seattle). In other words, we were involved in the production of two performances of The Wizard of Oz, with Nancy as pianist, and me as music director. The process began in September and ended April 8. As in any large-scale musical production, staging Oz involved many challenges.
.
To begin with, the musical was offered as one of many Friday afternoon activities for the MEF students, such as art, cooking, football, etc. In other words, the students chose to be in the show, rather than being chosen to be in the show. Hence, auditions took place after the talent pool had selected the directors, not vice versa.
.
Next, most of the cast do not speak English at home. They are all between grades 6-9, and only two of them had ever performed on stage before. Enjoy the variety of names of some of the characters (in order of appearance, of course): Dorothy (Aakriti), Aunty Em (Madihah), Uncle Henry (Andrew), Glinda (Karlina), Wicked Witch (Suzan), Scarecrow (Selin), Tin Man (Cemre), Lion (Melina), Oz (Atif), Coroner (Leonie); Barrister (Pranjal). The company included students with passports* from America, Azerbaijan, England, Germany, Holland, India, Italy, Korea, Pakistan, Russia and Spain.
.
The scripts did not arrive until after rehearsals had begun. Incredibly, they were for a Christmas version (Elfkins instead of Munchkins, Good Witch of the North Pole, etc.) The idiocy needed to send an Xmas Oz to a Muslim country is astounding! Bravo! Let’s all bump chests and high-five the idiots. Therefore, the cast did not have correct scripts (compliments of Michael Muzatko), until mid-October, when Nancy returned from the states following her father’s funeral.
.
Rehearsals usually took place in the performance site, the MEF OkullarI (schools) Auditorium every Friday afternoon from 1:00-2:30. The auditorium is a beautiful wood-paneled, cushion-seated facility, comfortably seating 600. It features a deep stage with a partition that conceals the backstage entryway, a well-placed light and sound booth, a large, fixed projection screen (stage left, next to the booth), a larger retractable screen, stage center, and spot lights located in the ample center balcony.
.
However, both screens are serviced by only one projector, which must be adjusted by hand atop an unsteady ladder propped between the seats. Since there are no hanging mics, only one head-mic designed for singers, and since stand mics in front of the stage are unsightly and prone to being knocked over, the only way to communicate between backstage and the sound booth is via walkie-talkie. In addition, the sound engineer must keep his window open be able to hear the actors. Hence, whenever he needs to communicate with the stage manager, the audience hears the walkie-talkie squawk on and off, and the sound of voices above the actors. Also, there is a giant flag of Ataturk next to the sound booth, so that every time one’s attention is drawn away from the stage by the sound of voices, one gets to enjoy Ataturk’s scrutinizing gaze.
.
The stage is very deep, with no wings nor flys. Hence, all set changes have to be done manually by a crew of six slaves wearing black. There is no room backstage to place the various props and sets, so they are left onstage outside of the central action. For example, the Wizard’s booth, in action, was by necessity positioned beside the gate to Oz, complete with the “Bell out of Order” sign.
.
In addition, we lost several rehearsals, three due to weather-related school closures (snow and predicted floods), others to unpredictable school-related conflicts. Some history: the auditorium is shared between the National and the International schools, separate entities sharing common grounds. The National School was created first, so they frequently use the Auditorium without notifying the International School of their intentions. On several occasions, we had to rehearse in the foyer because the stage was taken.
.
The Witch stole the show. Since she has a good singing voice, it seemed a shame to me for her not to able to use it just because the play did not give her a song. So I wrote her one, to the tune of “If I Only Had A Brain.”
.
I’d be vile and I’d be vicious,
My evil so malicious,
My mission—to abuse.
I would need no rhyme nor reason
To be mean in ev’ry season,
If I only had the shoes.
.
If I had the ruby slippers,
Who’d remember Jack the Ripper?
Ghengis Khan would sing the blues.
I could be another Nero
Burning Rome (he’s my hero!),
But I gotta get the shoes.
.
Making me a tragedy
For all humanity.
They would kneel and bow and beg me,
“Please, no more!”
Then I’d sniff,
And slam the door.
.
By the Winkies I am hated,
So I keep them all sedated.
They got nothin’ left to lose.
There’ll be chaos, there’ll be mayhem.
All my whims? You must obey ‘em,
Once I get those ruby shoes!
.
I was concerned throughout the rehearsal process: rehearsals were too short and too far apart, and several had been canceled or disrupted. As show time drew near, lines were still being dropped, projection was still weak, there were technical goofs, etc. Just what a sensible person would expect of a middle school production, right? In retrospect, I caused myself a lot of lost sleep over nothing. (Ding-dong, the brain was dead. Which old brain? Perfection brain!) The show went well, parents and administrators were happy, and kids’ lives were changed.
.
After all, what do you remember about middle school? The first day, the cool/awful teachers, the victories and humiliations, the first kiss. But most of all, for those of us who were lucky enough ... the first time on stage!
.
For the few of you who have been so burdened by the vicissitudes of life that you may not know one the most famous stories of modern times, here is my plot synopsis from the program:
.
The story begins on the Gayle family farm in the center of the U.S.A., rural Kansas. Dorothy, an orphan, lives with her Aunt Emily and Uncle Henry, and three farm hands, Hickory, Hunk and Zeke, all of whom she loves dearly. Her best friend is her dog, Toto.
.
Act One
.
Dorothy dashes home after having saved Toto from Miss Gultch, an influential neighbor. Dorothy tries to tell everyone what happened, but they are too busy to notice. Aunty Em finally tells Dorothy to find herself a place where she won’t get into trouble. Dorothy walks away and dreams about some place where there isn’t any trouble.
.
Miss Gultch arrives at the farm and produces an official document stating that Toto must be destroyed. The Gayles reluctantly agree. Dorothy tries to escape with Toto, but is stopped by the farm hands. Miss Gultch takes Toto and leaves. Dorothy tells everyone she hates them and never wants to see them again. Suddenly, Toto returns and Dorothy decides to run away with him.
.
She stumbles upon Professor Marvel, a phony magician who reads her fortune and kind-heartedly tricks her into wanting to return home. As Dorothy leaves, a powerful storm develops. Back at the farm, everyone is desperately preparing for an oncoming tornado. Dorothy is nowhere to be found. After they all dash into the storm cellar, Dorothy appears and is immediately swept up by the tornado, losing consciousness.
.
Dorothy “awakes” in vividly colorful Muchkinland, where she is greeted by Glinda, Good Witch of the North, and the Munchkins. Dorothy is celebrated by the Munchkins because her house fell on the Wicked Witch of the East. The celebration is cut short by the arrival of the Wicked Witch of the West who, upon realizing that her sister is dead, seeks to obtain the powerful ruby slippers. Glinda, expecting this, transfers the slippers to Dorothy’s feet. The frustrated Witch threatens Dorothy and exits.
.
Dorothy’s sole desire is to return to Kansas. Glinda and the Munchkins direct her to the Yellow Brick Road which will lead her to the Wizard, for only he has the power to help her get home. Dorothy and Toto depart and soon encounter a Scarecrow who speaks, mocking crows and talking apple trees. After tricking the trees into giving up their apples, Scarecrow joins Dorothy on her quest, hoping that the Wizard will give him a brain.
.
The duo discover Tin Man, who joins them in search of a heart. The Witch reappears, attacks Scarecrow with a fireball, and warns him and Tin Man not to assist Dorothy. Undaunted, the trio venture into a dark forest where they meet the Cowardly Lion, who joins them in search of courage.
.
The Witch again attempts to stop them by placing a field of poisoned poppies in their path. Dorothy, Toto and the Lion succumb to the poison, and Tin Man is frozen in grief. Scarecrow’s cries for help are answered by Glinda, who sends snow to counter the effects of the poppies. Act One ends with the four friends skipping off to Oz.
.
Act Two
.
Dorothy and friends arrive at the gates of the Emerald City, where they are met by a guard (the Wizard in disguise), who refuses them entrance. Once informed that Dorothy is wearing the ruby slippers, the companions are welcomed in and entertained by the Ozians. The celebrations are interrupted by the Witch flying above.
.
Dorothy asks to meet the Wizard and, after some delays, she and her companions stand before the “great and powerful” Oz. The Wizard agrees to answer their requests, but only after they bring him the Wicked Witch’s broomstick. They are aghast, but have no choice but to agree.
Meanwhile, the Witch has sent her flying monkeys to capture Dorothy. They intercept the companions in the Haunted Forest, and Dorothy is carried away to the Witch’s castle. Her friends sneak into the castle and are about to rescue her when they are cornered by the Witch and her armed Winkies. When the Witch tries to set Scarecrow on fire, Dorothy throws a bucket of water in his defense. The water douses the Witch and she melts. The Winkies thank Dorothy for setting them free from the Witch’s spell, and happily offer her the broomstick.
.
Back in the Emerald City, the Wizard again refuses to meet the companions’ requests. After Toto discovers that Oz is really only a humbug manipulating things from behind a curtain, Scarecrow, Tin Man and Lion are granted their desires. Dorothy will have to return to Kansas in the Wizard’s balloon. Before she can climb aboard, however, the balloon carries Oz away and Dorothy is left behind. She is bereft.
.
Glinda reappears, asks Dorothy what she has learned, and tells her that she could have returned home anytime, but that she would not have believed it was so simple. Dorothy bids her friends goodbye, and returns with Toto to Kansas murmuring “There’s no place like home.”
.
.
* To be accepted into MEF International School, a student must have a passport from outside Turkey.
Last week, Nancy and I returned to Istanbul from Kansas. In the meantime, we spent a lot of time in Munchkinland, a haunted forest, a witch’s castle, and in the Emerald City (not Seattle). In other words, we were involved in the production of two performances of The Wizard of Oz, with Nancy as pianist, and me as music director. The process began in September and ended April 8. As in any large-scale musical production, staging Oz involved many challenges.
.
To begin with, the musical was offered as one of many Friday afternoon activities for the MEF students, such as art, cooking, football, etc. In other words, the students chose to be in the show, rather than being chosen to be in the show. Hence, auditions took place after the talent pool had selected the directors, not vice versa.
.
Next, most of the cast do not speak English at home. They are all between grades 6-9, and only two of them had ever performed on stage before. Enjoy the variety of names of some of the characters (in order of appearance, of course): Dorothy (Aakriti), Aunty Em (Madihah), Uncle Henry (Andrew), Glinda (Karlina), Wicked Witch (Suzan), Scarecrow (Selin), Tin Man (Cemre), Lion (Melina), Oz (Atif), Coroner (Leonie); Barrister (Pranjal). The company included students with passports* from America, Azerbaijan, England, Germany, Holland, India, Italy, Korea, Pakistan, Russia and Spain.
.
The scripts did not arrive until after rehearsals had begun. Incredibly, they were for a Christmas version (Elfkins instead of Munchkins, Good Witch of the North Pole, etc.) The idiocy needed to send an Xmas Oz to a Muslim country is astounding! Bravo! Let’s all bump chests and high-five the idiots. Therefore, the cast did not have correct scripts (compliments of Michael Muzatko), until mid-October, when Nancy returned from the states following her father’s funeral.
.
Rehearsals usually took place in the performance site, the MEF OkullarI (schools) Auditorium every Friday afternoon from 1:00-2:30. The auditorium is a beautiful wood-paneled, cushion-seated facility, comfortably seating 600. It features a deep stage with a partition that conceals the backstage entryway, a well-placed light and sound booth, a large, fixed projection screen (stage left, next to the booth), a larger retractable screen, stage center, and spot lights located in the ample center balcony.
.
However, both screens are serviced by only one projector, which must be adjusted by hand atop an unsteady ladder propped between the seats. Since there are no hanging mics, only one head-mic designed for singers, and since stand mics in front of the stage are unsightly and prone to being knocked over, the only way to communicate between backstage and the sound booth is via walkie-talkie. In addition, the sound engineer must keep his window open be able to hear the actors. Hence, whenever he needs to communicate with the stage manager, the audience hears the walkie-talkie squawk on and off, and the sound of voices above the actors. Also, there is a giant flag of Ataturk next to the sound booth, so that every time one’s attention is drawn away from the stage by the sound of voices, one gets to enjoy Ataturk’s scrutinizing gaze.
.
The stage is very deep, with no wings nor flys. Hence, all set changes have to be done manually by a crew of six slaves wearing black. There is no room backstage to place the various props and sets, so they are left onstage outside of the central action. For example, the Wizard’s booth, in action, was by necessity positioned beside the gate to Oz, complete with the “Bell out of Order” sign.
.
In addition, we lost several rehearsals, three due to weather-related school closures (snow and predicted floods), others to unpredictable school-related conflicts. Some history: the auditorium is shared between the National and the International schools, separate entities sharing common grounds. The National School was created first, so they frequently use the Auditorium without notifying the International School of their intentions. On several occasions, we had to rehearse in the foyer because the stage was taken.
.
The Witch stole the show. Since she has a good singing voice, it seemed a shame to me for her not to able to use it just because the play did not give her a song. So I wrote her one, to the tune of “If I Only Had A Brain.”
.
I’d be vile and I’d be vicious,
My evil so malicious,
My mission—to abuse.
I would need no rhyme nor reason
To be mean in ev’ry season,
If I only had the shoes.
.
If I had the ruby slippers,
Who’d remember Jack the Ripper?
Ghengis Khan would sing the blues.
I could be another Nero
Burning Rome (he’s my hero!),
But I gotta get the shoes.
.
Making me a tragedy
For all humanity.
They would kneel and bow and beg me,
“Please, no more!”
Then I’d sniff,
And slam the door.
.
By the Winkies I am hated,
So I keep them all sedated.
They got nothin’ left to lose.
There’ll be chaos, there’ll be mayhem.
All my whims? You must obey ‘em,
Once I get those ruby shoes!
.
I was concerned throughout the rehearsal process: rehearsals were too short and too far apart, and several had been canceled or disrupted. As show time drew near, lines were still being dropped, projection was still weak, there were technical goofs, etc. Just what a sensible person would expect of a middle school production, right? In retrospect, I caused myself a lot of lost sleep over nothing. (Ding-dong, the brain was dead. Which old brain? Perfection brain!) The show went well, parents and administrators were happy, and kids’ lives were changed.
.
After all, what do you remember about middle school? The first day, the cool/awful teachers, the victories and humiliations, the first kiss. But most of all, for those of us who were lucky enough ... the first time on stage!
.
For the few of you who have been so burdened by the vicissitudes of life that you may not know one the most famous stories of modern times, here is my plot synopsis from the program:
.
The story begins on the Gayle family farm in the center of the U.S.A., rural Kansas. Dorothy, an orphan, lives with her Aunt Emily and Uncle Henry, and three farm hands, Hickory, Hunk and Zeke, all of whom she loves dearly. Her best friend is her dog, Toto.
.
Act One
.
Dorothy dashes home after having saved Toto from Miss Gultch, an influential neighbor. Dorothy tries to tell everyone what happened, but they are too busy to notice. Aunty Em finally tells Dorothy to find herself a place where she won’t get into trouble. Dorothy walks away and dreams about some place where there isn’t any trouble.
.
Miss Gultch arrives at the farm and produces an official document stating that Toto must be destroyed. The Gayles reluctantly agree. Dorothy tries to escape with Toto, but is stopped by the farm hands. Miss Gultch takes Toto and leaves. Dorothy tells everyone she hates them and never wants to see them again. Suddenly, Toto returns and Dorothy decides to run away with him.
.
She stumbles upon Professor Marvel, a phony magician who reads her fortune and kind-heartedly tricks her into wanting to return home. As Dorothy leaves, a powerful storm develops. Back at the farm, everyone is desperately preparing for an oncoming tornado. Dorothy is nowhere to be found. After they all dash into the storm cellar, Dorothy appears and is immediately swept up by the tornado, losing consciousness.
.
Dorothy “awakes” in vividly colorful Muchkinland, where she is greeted by Glinda, Good Witch of the North, and the Munchkins. Dorothy is celebrated by the Munchkins because her house fell on the Wicked Witch of the East. The celebration is cut short by the arrival of the Wicked Witch of the West who, upon realizing that her sister is dead, seeks to obtain the powerful ruby slippers. Glinda, expecting this, transfers the slippers to Dorothy’s feet. The frustrated Witch threatens Dorothy and exits.
.
Dorothy’s sole desire is to return to Kansas. Glinda and the Munchkins direct her to the Yellow Brick Road which will lead her to the Wizard, for only he has the power to help her get home. Dorothy and Toto depart and soon encounter a Scarecrow who speaks, mocking crows and talking apple trees. After tricking the trees into giving up their apples, Scarecrow joins Dorothy on her quest, hoping that the Wizard will give him a brain.
.
The duo discover Tin Man, who joins them in search of a heart. The Witch reappears, attacks Scarecrow with a fireball, and warns him and Tin Man not to assist Dorothy. Undaunted, the trio venture into a dark forest where they meet the Cowardly Lion, who joins them in search of courage.
.
The Witch again attempts to stop them by placing a field of poisoned poppies in their path. Dorothy, Toto and the Lion succumb to the poison, and Tin Man is frozen in grief. Scarecrow’s cries for help are answered by Glinda, who sends snow to counter the effects of the poppies. Act One ends with the four friends skipping off to Oz.
.
Act Two
.
Dorothy and friends arrive at the gates of the Emerald City, where they are met by a guard (the Wizard in disguise), who refuses them entrance. Once informed that Dorothy is wearing the ruby slippers, the companions are welcomed in and entertained by the Ozians. The celebrations are interrupted by the Witch flying above.
.
Dorothy asks to meet the Wizard and, after some delays, she and her companions stand before the “great and powerful” Oz. The Wizard agrees to answer their requests, but only after they bring him the Wicked Witch’s broomstick. They are aghast, but have no choice but to agree.
Meanwhile, the Witch has sent her flying monkeys to capture Dorothy. They intercept the companions in the Haunted Forest, and Dorothy is carried away to the Witch’s castle. Her friends sneak into the castle and are about to rescue her when they are cornered by the Witch and her armed Winkies. When the Witch tries to set Scarecrow on fire, Dorothy throws a bucket of water in his defense. The water douses the Witch and she melts. The Winkies thank Dorothy for setting them free from the Witch’s spell, and happily offer her the broomstick.
.
Back in the Emerald City, the Wizard again refuses to meet the companions’ requests. After Toto discovers that Oz is really only a humbug manipulating things from behind a curtain, Scarecrow, Tin Man and Lion are granted their desires. Dorothy will have to return to Kansas in the Wizard’s balloon. Before she can climb aboard, however, the balloon carries Oz away and Dorothy is left behind. She is bereft.
.
Glinda reappears, asks Dorothy what she has learned, and tells her that she could have returned home anytime, but that she would not have believed it was so simple. Dorothy bids her friends goodbye, and returns with Toto to Kansas murmuring “There’s no place like home.”
.
.
* To be accepted into MEF International School, a student must have a passport from outside Turkey.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Upon Attending a Christian Men’s Breakfast in Istanbul
.
It wasn’t my first time. I knew the ordeals and rewards that would await me:
I would have to jump out of bed Saturday morning by 8am, grab my umbrella (just in case), throw a coat over a t-shirt and jeans, and rush (stagger-jump-slip) downhill to catch an infrequent bus.
The downhill journey would involve negotiating several steep, serpentine alleys and ancient, uneven cobblestone stairways. My knees would ache. I would pass by a 2000 year old well that is buried under a Greek orthodox church. (Our district derives its name from this well: Kurucesme, meaning ‘dry well.’ Legend has it that St. John visited the dry well and it started flowing again. Devout pilgrims once traveled great, dangerous distances to visit the well, seeking succor for their ailments and the blessings of the saint; now, people fill up their plastic water bottles.)
I would have to try to stay awake in an overheated bus packed with people who felt that the moderate outside temperature was so frigid that they needed to keep the few window slats closed while they tightened the woolen scarves around their necks.
(Side note: Turks appear to loathe any temperature less than warm. When it gets cool enough to produce frosty breath, they will wear ski gloves and clutch cloths to their faces to protect their mouths and noses from the coolness. While waiting for a bus, they will huddle together, stocking caps, earmuffs and fleece-lined hoods pulled tightly around their heads, making smoking and talking on cell phones awkward.)
I would be jolted awake when the bus reached its terminus, Taksim. I would know I had reached Taksim because the wall of bodies that had been holding me upright would begin to yield. I would groggily limp down to the asphalt. I would pull down the brim of my old-fashioned wool hat, stuff my hands into the pockets of my scruffy,flaking leather jacket, then, dodging between the honk-happy cars and buses, cross several lanes of busy traffic, to reach Taksim center.
(Side Note: Taksim is Istanbul’s international center. It is where all the significant political protests take place. I frequently walk past rows of policemen wearing protective armor, holding automatic weapons, standing in front of large, black vans equipped with bulletproof glass and water cannons. I have even been caught in the ‘bow wave’ of a protest march, unable to find safety until I ducked down a side alley.)
I would now have the choice of either walking briskly down Istiklal Caddesi, a wide, tourist and hawker-heavy street, or catch the funky little tram. If I were to walk, I would march down the middle of the street, inside the tram tracks, because the tourists tend to walk along the sides, looking into shop windows. Those tourists looking up would be easy to spot ahead and dodge. The ones who would suddenly stop to peer into a shop or down a pasaji (passage) would be they that I run into. I would reach my destination within 15 minutes. If I were to take the tram, I would step back in time to the 1920’s, and rattle and clang down the street, while teens would run alongside and hitch free rides until the conductor shooed them off.
Once I reached Union Han, the building where the meetings occur, I would pass through a huge, heavy, black wrought-iron gate, walk down a narrow passageway, climb up some marble steps, pass through a tall wooden doorway and begin climbing five steep sets of stairs. The building dates from the 1880’s, so there is no elevator. (But then, my school dates from the 1990’s and it also has no elevators. I have to climb up exactly 107 steps to get to my classroom, a journey I make at least twice per school day, usually more like six times daily.) At last, winded, I would reach the meeting.
The gathering would involve about a dozen men of all ages. Saturday’s meeting had two Americans, a Canadian, a Namibian, a South African, a Hollander, an Australian, among others I did not meet. Breakfast is prepared by different guys, and usually features some form of that rare delicacy in Turkey, pork. (Fellowship be damned -- I’m there for the meat!) Then a facilitator would lead the meeting/discussion. In all, the whole thing would last about an hour and a half.
Then I would walk out onto the roof terrace and be treated to one of the best views in Istanbul. I would be looking southward. Directly below me would be the Galata Tower, and beyond that the Golden Horn. To the east I could watch the waters of the Bosphorus flow into the Sea of Marmara. Across the water would lie Asia and the Princes Islands. On the European side would rise the opulent Topkapi Palace complex. Scanning west, there would be the magnificent domes and minarets of Hagia Sophia and the huge Blue, Suleiman and New mosques. Dozens of other mosques and minarets would punctuate the skyline. There would be a crisp February breeze, and I would be very happy to be alive in this place at this moment.
It wasn’t my first time. I knew the ordeals and rewards that would await me:
I would have to jump out of bed Saturday morning by 8am, grab my umbrella (just in case), throw a coat over a t-shirt and jeans, and rush (stagger-jump-slip) downhill to catch an infrequent bus.
The downhill journey would involve negotiating several steep, serpentine alleys and ancient, uneven cobblestone stairways. My knees would ache. I would pass by a 2000 year old well that is buried under a Greek orthodox church. (Our district derives its name from this well: Kurucesme, meaning ‘dry well.’ Legend has it that St. John visited the dry well and it started flowing again. Devout pilgrims once traveled great, dangerous distances to visit the well, seeking succor for their ailments and the blessings of the saint; now, people fill up their plastic water bottles.)
I would have to try to stay awake in an overheated bus packed with people who felt that the moderate outside temperature was so frigid that they needed to keep the few window slats closed while they tightened the woolen scarves around their necks.
(Side note: Turks appear to loathe any temperature less than warm. When it gets cool enough to produce frosty breath, they will wear ski gloves and clutch cloths to their faces to protect their mouths and noses from the coolness. While waiting for a bus, they will huddle together, stocking caps, earmuffs and fleece-lined hoods pulled tightly around their heads, making smoking and talking on cell phones awkward.)
I would be jolted awake when the bus reached its terminus, Taksim. I would know I had reached Taksim because the wall of bodies that had been holding me upright would begin to yield. I would groggily limp down to the asphalt. I would pull down the brim of my old-fashioned wool hat, stuff my hands into the pockets of my scruffy,flaking leather jacket, then, dodging between the honk-happy cars and buses, cross several lanes of busy traffic, to reach Taksim center.
(Side Note: Taksim is Istanbul’s international center. It is where all the significant political protests take place. I frequently walk past rows of policemen wearing protective armor, holding automatic weapons, standing in front of large, black vans equipped with bulletproof glass and water cannons. I have even been caught in the ‘bow wave’ of a protest march, unable to find safety until I ducked down a side alley.)
I would now have the choice of either walking briskly down Istiklal Caddesi, a wide, tourist and hawker-heavy street, or catch the funky little tram. If I were to walk, I would march down the middle of the street, inside the tram tracks, because the tourists tend to walk along the sides, looking into shop windows. Those tourists looking up would be easy to spot ahead and dodge. The ones who would suddenly stop to peer into a shop or down a pasaji (passage) would be they that I run into. I would reach my destination within 15 minutes. If I were to take the tram, I would step back in time to the 1920’s, and rattle and clang down the street, while teens would run alongside and hitch free rides until the conductor shooed them off.
Once I reached Union Han, the building where the meetings occur, I would pass through a huge, heavy, black wrought-iron gate, walk down a narrow passageway, climb up some marble steps, pass through a tall wooden doorway and begin climbing five steep sets of stairs. The building dates from the 1880’s, so there is no elevator. (But then, my school dates from the 1990’s and it also has no elevators. I have to climb up exactly 107 steps to get to my classroom, a journey I make at least twice per school day, usually more like six times daily.) At last, winded, I would reach the meeting.
The gathering would involve about a dozen men of all ages. Saturday’s meeting had two Americans, a Canadian, a Namibian, a South African, a Hollander, an Australian, among others I did not meet. Breakfast is prepared by different guys, and usually features some form of that rare delicacy in Turkey, pork. (Fellowship be damned -- I’m there for the meat!) Then a facilitator would lead the meeting/discussion. In all, the whole thing would last about an hour and a half.
Then I would walk out onto the roof terrace and be treated to one of the best views in Istanbul. I would be looking southward. Directly below me would be the Galata Tower, and beyond that the Golden Horn. To the east I could watch the waters of the Bosphorus flow into the Sea of Marmara. Across the water would lie Asia and the Princes Islands. On the European side would rise the opulent Topkapi Palace complex. Scanning west, there would be the magnificent domes and minarets of Hagia Sophia and the huge Blue, Suleiman and New mosques. Dozens of other mosques and minarets would punctuate the skyline. There would be a crisp February breeze, and I would be very happy to be alive in this place at this moment.
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