Ah Istanbul ah
First things first – after months of putting it off I finally installed a wireless connection at home which means that the chaos of cables on the living room floor has been cleared away…
Then – some observations from the recent trip to Istanbul:
Religious Education from the Taxi Driver
As we were driving along the road accompanied by a radio station broadcasting prayers from the Quran, he asked ‘does it contain alcohol?’ about the wet tissue my aunt offered to him…I never knew that the alcohol in a wet tissue counted as ‘alcohol’ that is banned by the religion…
“If someone calls you ‘kafir’ (non-Muslim), you must immediately deny it” he said. Apparently if I don’t, in the God’s eyes I accept the supposition and am as bad as a non-Muslim. “Could this be? Is the God so blind? Doesn’t the God know how religious, what kind of a sinner, how good and how bad you are better than you? By believing in such nonsense don’t you in fact betray God’s trust in you and all that he endowed you with?” I didn’t say any of this as he is a local taxi driver and I didn’t want to cause any embarrassment for my aunty…But I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry…
All marriages have their ups and downs
Those couples who were arguing in my last trip were sitting arm in arm watching the lights of the (Princess) islands in this one. Those who said “ours is, honest to God, the best marriage around” in the last trip were having an argument at the dinner table with friends in this one.
Marriages continue by one accommodating and understanding the other and each taking this in turn. In any case, at the end, all decide to talk about safe topics like the taste of the latest orange juice brand so that nerves are not rattled and prides are not shattered.
The Bosporus is always beautiful
Especially when celebrating the marriage of a new couple with a group of happy people;
Especially when watching ladies dancing the ‘horon’ (a high velocity dance from the Black Sea coast) on 5 inch heels;
Especially when laughing at the 5 year old girl saying ‘I practised at home’ as a response to ‘how come you belly dance so well?’;
Especially when the sea and the sky get darker and lights of the houses come on;
Especially when counting the lights of the shanty town upon dark hills as if they were the stars;
Especially when singing ‘sevgili yarim nerelerde’ (where is my loved one?) on the top deck with a glass of raki in hand…
Naki Bey Beach overlooks the Sedef Island
I never knew, until about two months ago, that the sea in Istanbul was now clean enough to swim in. But ever since I heard about it, there’d been butterflies in my stomach with the anticipation of swimming there again after 20 years exactly…
I never knew there was a Naki Bey Beach on Buyuk Ada.
I never knew it overlooked the Sedef Island where I had swum the last time in Istanbul 20 years ago. I could see all my life for the last 20 years floating by…I wanted to swim after them but there were a few jelly fish around, oh and the waves…
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Ibiza – the island of dance and love
It’s been more than a month since I got back from my stay with my generous friend H in Ibiza. I first started writing this piece two weeks ago…how time feels fuller than ever these days…anyway enough of my inability to understand time…
The trip to Ibiza in June was the second in 12 months, an escape from having to celebrate my birthday in London and find a refuge where I could think about my future.
Geographically, Ibiza is a typical Mediterranean destination; it has the same type of rocks, pine trees, beaches, olive and orange groves you can find anywhere along the northern coasts. What’s special about it is how there are so many different islands on just the one.
There is the clubbing scene. I am not talking about the vomiting teenagers in San Antonio where I’ve never been other than when we drove past it one afternoon. Much better is the more grown up clubbing option around Ibiza town. That’s the one I tried. And I tried it well: Pacha from 3.30am to 7.30am, and Space from 8.30am to 11 am and then again from 9pm to 11pm…All in less than 24 hours around my birthday…Oh, it gets better…I was up 38.5 hours over the weekend of my birthday. I tell you, I rock! More so now at 37, than I did at 27 or even 17!
There is nature. In the middle of the island or along its deserted beaches you can be forgiven for thinking that you are the only person in this ancient landscape. That’s how secluded one can be despite others clubbing not very far down the road. I would have liked to do some more walks but instead I spent early mornings sitting by the pool and thinking about my goals and planning how to achieve them.
Then there are the hippies, man…Don’t take this the wrong way but I think all hippies smell the same…at least on Ibiza…a mixture of sea salt, a few days old sweat and dope. After the first weekend of clubbing and a week of quiet contemplation, I spent the second weekend mostly on one of the hippy beaches watching the sun set (on the Sunday accompanied by drumming, fire shows and dancing) and full moon rise. I am sure the magic of it all will draw me back very soon.
Like most holidays, I started to keep notes which become shorter and more infrequent as the days passed.
June 20th, Santander
(where I was speaking at a conference)
Ah Spain! I love this place. It’s full of happy people. Arrived at Santander mid-afternoon, took a late siesta and now am on promenade above the Atlantic sitting amongst lovers watching the swimmers below.
…
Just had coffee and churros (pieces of fried dough sprinkled with sugar), walked around, bought a pair of red espadrilles which put a smile on my face – used to wear these all through summer in Turkey but hadn’t had a pair since arriving in the UK 16 years ago . Then I had chorizo, patatas bravas and half a bottle of rioja tinto and prepared for tomorrow’s presentation. Sitting at the next table but one were two beautiful men; not interesting me neither was I in them, but they made me want to find a Spanish man in London. Arriving back at hotel, I realised that my mobile had not changed the time automatically as I thought it had so I’d been an hour behind the whole time. Good.
June 21st, Santander
Managed to get up in time so joined Spanish colleagues for breakfast, and arrived at conference venue with them. I am the only non-Spanish here. I don’t think I would mind moving to Spain – at least for a while. I felt this first time in Madrid in April where I was for work for less than 23 hours.
Spain is very much like Turkey: same slight chaos that surrounds everything from bus time tables to highly technical conference presentations. There are apartment blocks which I’d never thought I’d miss in Britain…and to boot they are all different sizes, shapes and colours – but all with large windows – not afraid of the weather, unlike the small windows here.
How peculiar that the uniformity of architecture in Britain that impressed me so much with its orderliness and calm all those years ago would come to bore me. But they do.
At the conference (which is by Playa Bikini by the way!) for three hours now. Too much Spanish spoken too fast already. I feel drunk or more appropriately hangover by this bombardment of noise.
Oh yes, Spain is like Turkey but a lot more fun and free. Promenade is full of lovers of all ages hand in hand, sitting, kissing etc. not hiding like they would in Turkey – but not blind drunk disorderly as they may be in Britain. Neither repressed nor depressed!
June 22nd, Santander
I am loving Spain and Spain is loving me back!
This is life: good work, great dinner by the sea, joyful company, good night’s sleep, walk along the promanede in the morning, talking business on the phone with an American in Sweden, free PC access in a quiet room at the conference center, and now as I try to understand Spanish politicians talking about environment (all men, all six of them, not looking like they care), my mobile charges in the corner ready for phone calls waiting to be made to H and F re planning the ‘meeting’ in Ibiza tonight.
This is life! Esta la vida!
PS. There is the unpleasant graffiti on the ladies toilet door in the posh restaurant by the sea that reads ‘immigrants out’ and worse…Very disappointing.
June 25th, Ibiza
I’ve not been as happy for a long while as I’ve been in the last 48 hours or so. It’s because of staying up and out as explained above. I ate well in that period and had the occasional nap. But mainly run on adrenalin and happiness. Absolutely no drugs and very little alcohol.
The tiredness did get to me at times though…like when I nodded off in the car yesterday and dreamt that I was driving a car like the one those boys in the film Y Tu Mama Tambien had and that we were driving to the beach they were looking for…I kept jerking not wanting to miss the turning…Or like when I nodded off laying down on the rocks across Esvedra, which is a magical rock crop just off the main island. Every time I dosed off, I dreamt that I was rolling down the rock and falling down to the sea…never all the way to the sea though as I would wake up just on the edge…
Sitting here watching the bamboo and oleander sway in the wind reminds me how the coral and seaweed sway the same way with the currents underwater: the same on land as in sea. There is so much harmony in the world that, when we stop to observe, the beauty of it is overwhelming.
What’s also overwhelming (and I’ve just realised this) is the realisation of one’s visions. I knew that I’d be sitting by the pool, reading my book and being really alert but when it does happen…mustn’t be afraid of my own visions….not just of holidays but love, family, friends, life…
June 28th, Ibiza
Spent the 26th on the rocks…played scrabble, sunbathed, had shiatsu massage, drinks at sunset and the bar afterwards…what a drama…several dramas in fact. Before we knew it, it was midnight and back at home. We finished the Rosado, opened and finished the Taittinger and still managed to get up at 9 on the 27th.
The 27th was a bit overcast. H was teaching so I went to town with her; sat at Café Toulouse Latrec; read more of Born to Succeed, made my long list of ‘things that are important’. Why? Don’t ask why?
We spent the afternoon – early evening by gatecrushing and drinking our way through a wedding and a funeral…OK, it’s wasn’t gate crushing as such. We just happened to be in the same venue as a wedding where we had lunch and a funeral where we had early evening aperitifs. By 8 pm we were home to have a long chat about what it means to spend a day at a wedding and a funeral.
I’ve thought enough about life for a while, now it’s time to live it.
July 2nd, London
I was supposed to return on the 30th of June but got back today. As we were getting ready to drive to the airport, we learnt that there were two ETA bombs at the Ibiza Airport – pre-warned, diffused, with no damage to human life. But it will have caused chaos on traffic and delay in flights. After making several phone calls to the airport, travel agency and Iberian Airlines, I thought f*** it, let’s go to the beach…but not before booking an alternative Easyjet flight for today.
It feels like 70% of the relaxation I got back from holiday was due to these extra 2.5 days…could it be? Probably just feels like it but who cares. The naughtiness, the irresponsibility of it...never before had I extended a holiday…
The whirlwind of July does not need spelling out…in fact I don’t think I can manage…living it was tiring enough (see previous entry if curious)…
…In a minute I’ll be having some chicken that was frozen for more than a month. Will I get food poisoning? What the heck…let’s live dangerously…
It’s been more than a month since I got back from my stay with my generous friend H in Ibiza. I first started writing this piece two weeks ago…how time feels fuller than ever these days…anyway enough of my inability to understand time…
The trip to Ibiza in June was the second in 12 months, an escape from having to celebrate my birthday in London and find a refuge where I could think about my future.
Geographically, Ibiza is a typical Mediterranean destination; it has the same type of rocks, pine trees, beaches, olive and orange groves you can find anywhere along the northern coasts. What’s special about it is how there are so many different islands on just the one.
There is the clubbing scene. I am not talking about the vomiting teenagers in San Antonio where I’ve never been other than when we drove past it one afternoon. Much better is the more grown up clubbing option around Ibiza town. That’s the one I tried. And I tried it well: Pacha from 3.30am to 7.30am, and Space from 8.30am to 11 am and then again from 9pm to 11pm…All in less than 24 hours around my birthday…Oh, it gets better…I was up 38.5 hours over the weekend of my birthday. I tell you, I rock! More so now at 37, than I did at 27 or even 17!
There is nature. In the middle of the island or along its deserted beaches you can be forgiven for thinking that you are the only person in this ancient landscape. That’s how secluded one can be despite others clubbing not very far down the road. I would have liked to do some more walks but instead I spent early mornings sitting by the pool and thinking about my goals and planning how to achieve them.
Then there are the hippies, man…Don’t take this the wrong way but I think all hippies smell the same…at least on Ibiza…a mixture of sea salt, a few days old sweat and dope. After the first weekend of clubbing and a week of quiet contemplation, I spent the second weekend mostly on one of the hippy beaches watching the sun set (on the Sunday accompanied by drumming, fire shows and dancing) and full moon rise. I am sure the magic of it all will draw me back very soon.
Like most holidays, I started to keep notes which become shorter and more infrequent as the days passed.
June 20th, Santander
(where I was speaking at a conference)
Ah Spain! I love this place. It’s full of happy people. Arrived at Santander mid-afternoon, took a late siesta and now am on promenade above the Atlantic sitting amongst lovers watching the swimmers below.
…
Just had coffee and churros (pieces of fried dough sprinkled with sugar), walked around, bought a pair of red espadrilles which put a smile on my face – used to wear these all through summer in Turkey but hadn’t had a pair since arriving in the UK 16 years ago . Then I had chorizo, patatas bravas and half a bottle of rioja tinto and prepared for tomorrow’s presentation. Sitting at the next table but one were two beautiful men; not interesting me neither was I in them, but they made me want to find a Spanish man in London. Arriving back at hotel, I realised that my mobile had not changed the time automatically as I thought it had so I’d been an hour behind the whole time. Good.
June 21st, Santander
Managed to get up in time so joined Spanish colleagues for breakfast, and arrived at conference venue with them. I am the only non-Spanish here. I don’t think I would mind moving to Spain – at least for a while. I felt this first time in Madrid in April where I was for work for less than 23 hours.
Spain is very much like Turkey: same slight chaos that surrounds everything from bus time tables to highly technical conference presentations. There are apartment blocks which I’d never thought I’d miss in Britain…and to boot they are all different sizes, shapes and colours – but all with large windows – not afraid of the weather, unlike the small windows here.
How peculiar that the uniformity of architecture in Britain that impressed me so much with its orderliness and calm all those years ago would come to bore me. But they do.
At the conference (which is by Playa Bikini by the way!) for three hours now. Too much Spanish spoken too fast already. I feel drunk or more appropriately hangover by this bombardment of noise.
Oh yes, Spain is like Turkey but a lot more fun and free. Promenade is full of lovers of all ages hand in hand, sitting, kissing etc. not hiding like they would in Turkey – but not blind drunk disorderly as they may be in Britain. Neither repressed nor depressed!
June 22nd, Santander
I am loving Spain and Spain is loving me back!
This is life: good work, great dinner by the sea, joyful company, good night’s sleep, walk along the promanede in the morning, talking business on the phone with an American in Sweden, free PC access in a quiet room at the conference center, and now as I try to understand Spanish politicians talking about environment (all men, all six of them, not looking like they care), my mobile charges in the corner ready for phone calls waiting to be made to H and F re planning the ‘meeting’ in Ibiza tonight.
This is life! Esta la vida!
PS. There is the unpleasant graffiti on the ladies toilet door in the posh restaurant by the sea that reads ‘immigrants out’ and worse…Very disappointing.
June 25th, Ibiza
I’ve not been as happy for a long while as I’ve been in the last 48 hours or so. It’s because of staying up and out as explained above. I ate well in that period and had the occasional nap. But mainly run on adrenalin and happiness. Absolutely no drugs and very little alcohol.
The tiredness did get to me at times though…like when I nodded off in the car yesterday and dreamt that I was driving a car like the one those boys in the film Y Tu Mama Tambien had and that we were driving to the beach they were looking for…I kept jerking not wanting to miss the turning…Or like when I nodded off laying down on the rocks across Esvedra, which is a magical rock crop just off the main island. Every time I dosed off, I dreamt that I was rolling down the rock and falling down to the sea…never all the way to the sea though as I would wake up just on the edge…
Sitting here watching the bamboo and oleander sway in the wind reminds me how the coral and seaweed sway the same way with the currents underwater: the same on land as in sea. There is so much harmony in the world that, when we stop to observe, the beauty of it is overwhelming.
What’s also overwhelming (and I’ve just realised this) is the realisation of one’s visions. I knew that I’d be sitting by the pool, reading my book and being really alert but when it does happen…mustn’t be afraid of my own visions….not just of holidays but love, family, friends, life…
June 28th, Ibiza
Spent the 26th on the rocks…played scrabble, sunbathed, had shiatsu massage, drinks at sunset and the bar afterwards…what a drama…several dramas in fact. Before we knew it, it was midnight and back at home. We finished the Rosado, opened and finished the Taittinger and still managed to get up at 9 on the 27th.
The 27th was a bit overcast. H was teaching so I went to town with her; sat at Café Toulouse Latrec; read more of Born to Succeed, made my long list of ‘things that are important’. Why? Don’t ask why?
We spent the afternoon – early evening by gatecrushing and drinking our way through a wedding and a funeral…OK, it’s wasn’t gate crushing as such. We just happened to be in the same venue as a wedding where we had lunch and a funeral where we had early evening aperitifs. By 8 pm we were home to have a long chat about what it means to spend a day at a wedding and a funeral.
I’ve thought enough about life for a while, now it’s time to live it.
July 2nd, London
I was supposed to return on the 30th of June but got back today. As we were getting ready to drive to the airport, we learnt that there were two ETA bombs at the Ibiza Airport – pre-warned, diffused, with no damage to human life. But it will have caused chaos on traffic and delay in flights. After making several phone calls to the airport, travel agency and Iberian Airlines, I thought f*** it, let’s go to the beach…but not before booking an alternative Easyjet flight for today.
It feels like 70% of the relaxation I got back from holiday was due to these extra 2.5 days…could it be? Probably just feels like it but who cares. The naughtiness, the irresponsibility of it...never before had I extended a holiday…
The whirlwind of July does not need spelling out…in fact I don’t think I can manage…living it was tiring enough (see previous entry if curious)…
…In a minute I’ll be having some chicken that was frozen for more than a month. Will I get food poisoning? What the heck…let’s live dangerously…
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