christmas in harlem (istanbul)

This past weekend was Christmas. In a country where less than one percent of the population celebrates the holiday, it passed as just another day. A few friends and I did our best to commemorate the holiday, though. Church service, brunch, family puzzles....typical things.

Lights in Taksim Square on Christmas Eve

Violinist on Istiklal Caddesi on Christmas Eve

Saint Anthony of Padua on Christmas Eve

60-piece Christmas puzzle: 2 YTL. Finishing in under 5 minutes: priceless. Photo by Kim Didra.

This time away from 'home' has made me realize two things: holidays are, at the root, derived from something specific (usually not gift-getting); and home is where the heart is (I am aware of the cheesiness here). With those things in mind, the passage of another holiday away from home was not depressing or sad, but a good opportunity to reevaluate where I am and where I'm headed. Mutlu Noeller...

planning an unplanned day

I woke up last Saturday with a loose plan. I was to meet some people in Taksim and check out some stuff still on the "Things to see while you're studying in Istanbul" list.

"Do you want to check out Pera Palace Hotel? It's where Agatha Christie stayed," said a trusty companion.
"Sure, why not?" I responded.

The hotel's history was shrouded in it's new modern veneer, but you could tell it had stories. A bellhop gave us a quick tour guided by the few English sentences he could muster.

The hotel was just a brief stop on our way to the Pera Museum. Russian art from the 18th and 19th Centuries was on display and it was the type of stuff I remember seeing in my history books in high school. This stuff was mind blowing. Emotionally-moving, evocative, explicit - like all the feelings you felt when your first dog died. It was serious.

Needless to say, we spent a bit more time there than we had planned for. We rushed to the Military Museum. Unfortunately, we got there as the place was closing up. We were given a few moments inside before the lights began turning off, and from the looks of the place, a return would definitely be justified. By the time we were leaving, the sun was retiring and we decided it was a good time for a beverage break. You ever heard of sahlep? You should really look into. It's like warm milk, but good, and sweet, but not too sweet, and filling, but not too filling...Anyways, it's good. Try it. Seated, we were able to loosely plan the rest of our unplanned evening.

"Are you interested in seeing Whirling Dervishes?" a trusty companion asked.
"Sure, why not?" I responded.

Phones began to fly and numerous numbers were dialed. We were in. We began the trek to Hodjapasha, an old hamam converted to a cultural center. Our seats were in the front (which made our slightly late arrival that much more embarrassing) and the view was amazing. Five men gone from this world into another and expressing it through their bodies. It was entrancing to say the least. When the show was over, we retreated to the lobby to come back down to Earth.

"Are you interested in seeing traditional Turkish folk dances?" a trusty companion asked.
"Sure, why not?" I responded.

Thirty minutes later we were back in the converted hamam watching Turks dressed in region-historical-tradition-specific garb dance in ways that made us (maybe I should just speak for myself) want to get up there with them.

It was an amazingly planned, unplanned day. If you find yourself in Istanbul with some trusty companions, I would urge you to just say "Sure, why not?"

holiday season. really?

It's that time of year. But you wouldn't know it if you looked out my window. Istanbul has been warmer than I ever anticipated, and to be quite honest with you, I'm not too stoked about it. Fall is about a chill in the air, leaves falling, hot soups, and other tangential autumnal things. What is going on outside my window is entirely not fall. Let me give you the rundown.

Football: Fall is about college football. Specifically Big 10 or SEC (let's be real, the others don't matter). You've spent the end of summer watching SportsCenter and catching preseason games in preparation to spend every Saturday during the fall watching your team's potential manifested on the field.

In Turkey, though, not much football watching is going on (unless we're talking about soccer, or futbol, not American football, what?). At any rate, my relationship with the Spartans and D'antonio has been suffering because of the distance between us - that and my lack of tailgating, which no doubt adds to a team's ability on the field.

Goooo GREEN!

Autumnal Gastronomy: Tell me one thing: what screams 'fall' more than a hot beverage? During (at least) three months of the year, it's guaranteed that you can find me walking the streets with one of the following glued to my paw: peppermint tea, pumpkin spiced lattee, hot cocoa. There's nothing that can make your day better. Except, perhaps, a hot meal for those days when you weren't able to find your mug before you left the house and have now been cold all day because of it (it happens more often than you think, what of it?). Tell me a tuna melt doesn't sound appetizing? Eh? What about some squash? Maybe some steaming sweet potatoes? That's right. Salivate.

I'm in Istanbul. It hasn't been cold enough to wear a jacket most days, let alone warrant wrapping my knobby fingers around a piping hot drink.

Obviously pumpkin spice.

General Holiday Sentiment: The holidays are coming (Thanksgiving may have already passed, but I'm still dreaming about it) and they should be all that's on your mind. Holidays are a break from the regular, whether that be good or bad is irrelevant, but they're a break, nonetheless. I'm always for some distraction to pull me from reality.

Did I mention that Turkey's not America and also an Islamic country? So...no Thanksgiving. Those Christmas tree decals in your neighbor's window? Ya, also not there.

Small trees in unexpected places. Surprise!

...and life goes on

Almost two weeks have passed since the bombing in Taksim Square. I went back to the scene, almost exactly a week after the attack and noticed something strange: life goes on. It was 9:45 in the morning and people were opening their shops, drinking their cay and generally going about their business as usual. I kept looking for that person who would be anxiously looking around, attempting to spot the next suicide bomber, but couldn't find him anywhere. This made me wonder, why do we get over such devastating events so quickly? Thirty two people were injured that morning of October 31, 2010 but it goes without saying that hundreds if not thousands of people's security was seriously threatened. So, how do we let mere days pass before we return to 'normal' status? Have we all become too jaded to let devastating events wear on our consciousnesses?

I lived in a small town called Edmond in Oklahoma when in 1995, Timothy McVeigh left a bomb in front of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in downtown Oklahoma City. I was in the third grade that morning and my class was in the library when we heard the sonic boom. The fear on my peers' faces was compounded by the sheer uncertainty on the adults' faces. It didn't take long for us to find out what had happened and after then, it took even shorter for us to realize that this was a serious event. Schools and businesses were closed for days after the attack and years later, after my family had moved out of Edmond to another state entirely, I still remembered that feeling of fear and sadness I felt that morning.

Then Columbine happened. Then 911 happened. Then Virginia Tech. Now Taksim Square. I can't fail to acknowledge that as each event passes, it takes me less and less time to pick up the pieces and continue on with my life as usual. Perhaps as violence permeates the areas once considered 'safe' (a daycare in the Federal Building, a high school, an office building, a college classroom) I've begun to approach my life differently. If there are no 'safe' places in society any longer, what's the point of being surprised when bad things happen?

We have entered a new metaphysical modernity where acceptance is quickly merging with expectancy. There's just one question that begs to be answered: Is this a good thing?

Taksim Square on most days

Taksim Square October 31, 2010

Taksim Square October 31, 2010

an open letter

Dear Kripoe,

Your work intrigues me. I'll admit, at first I overlooked it. The simplicity of your design isn't shocking. So I kept walking by. What's another fist on the wall? But the same simplicity made me realize that you're onto something big. Your work is recognizable. You've become legend in your own right. You own the streets in Eminonu and Karakoy. It looks like the area around the Galata Tower is yours, too. I appreciate your art, I do. I just have one question: what does it mean?

Sincerely yours,
Cait

a little design for everyone (most everyone)

Like most big cities, Istanbul is no stranger to the odd, the occult, the radical, or the inspiring. Walk down any street in Taksim and you'll find vendors selling not hot dogs, not pretzels, but corn (boiled or grilled to your liking). Venture through the side streets in Besiktas and you'll find several (if not countless) street people missing body parts - eyes, feet, legs, arms. Look down any street, anywhere in the city and you'll see how the homeless dogs and cats look both ways before they cross the streets. None of this is surprising in itself, though. These are the particular unique elements that comprise any big city. You don't have to go out of your way to find them.

No collar? No problem.

Oh, hey.

When I am in the mood to look for something of a particular strangess, however, a museum of modern art is generally where I turn. I'm not saying that I find modern art less credible or important than other types of art, I'm saying that I don't always understand it, and it's in my lack of knowledge that I find myself adventuring into some of the most thought-provoking pieces.

This was the case when I recently went to the aptly named Istanbul Modern. The temporary exhibition featured clothing designer and film director Hussein Chalayan. The individual pieces of clothing were intriguing - they looked soft and delicate, yet durable and structural at the same time.  His films, however, were admittedly over my head. Shots of a woman dressing another, or of a man blotting a woman's face, or a girl posing with a gun. There's context there, there has to be, right? So I'm sure the difficulty I find in trying to understand these pieces has more to do with my lack of knowledge than with the art itself.

Either way, it was weird and I liked it.

Also on temporary exhibit was a piece called "Discover Manga!" (I've never seen an exclamation point more accurately placed). Let's be honest here, I've never gotten into the whole Japanese cartoon thing. I understand there's a huge following, but I'm just not that intrigued to delve any deeper into it. Maybe I'm missing something. I'm willing to deal with that potential loss, though. At any rate, the employees dressed in Manga-inspired clothing were the quirky icing on top of my odd day.

Those kids from high school. Remember them?

while the city sleeps

There's something beautiful about a Sunday morning. Sunday mornings are the one time during the week when, in the majority of places I've visited and lived, the city takes a deep breath and doesn't feel rushed to release it. Car horns are silenced, music is softened, and the crowds of people normally found rushing through the streets are abated. The rule is that Sundays are peace; Sundays are quiet. Istanbul doesn't stray from this rule.

It rained this Sunday morning, but it was unlike the rain experienced in the Northeastern part of the United States. The rain dropped almost soundlessly while the sun was shining just beyond the clouds into the Bosphorus Straits. As a cloud would pass, there would be a period of sunshine, and then another cloud would come with the same soundless falling apart. Off and on throughout the morning.

Hopeful that this weather pattern in combination with the day of the week might teach me something the normal pattern of the city might not expose, I took to the streets to experience the shell of my neighborhood. This is what I learned: Istanbul is intentionally and unintentionally layered. Streets are constructed where roads once where, where paths once were, but still lead you to the local grocery, nonetheless. Buildings of stucco and brick are crammed together on the same plots of land where structures of stone and earth once stood (still might stand) and these buildings house the bank clerk, the taxi driver, and the professors at this university. These are layers that are unintentionally complex, but yet intentionally simple.

I learned this morning, as I walked down Cengiz Topel Caddesi, that no matter how many layers a city has, they all serve the same purpose. We have created these centers to interact with each other, be it for economic means, to exchange ideas, or just to chew the grass. This is what I learned this rainy, Sunday morning. Istanbul isn't, but could be home.

Fish market in Kabatas

Clothing 'store' in Kabatas

Hello Kitty

Homeless man