Trailer for "Hello Anatolia"

I'd like to share this film trailer with you. Valantis is a friend of mine and he has been working on this project for some time now. It looks like his efforts have paid off. Tell me what you think.

Hello Anatolia

Valanatis, a friend of mine has developed an interesting film proposal and is looking for support. He is looking to raise only $5000, which for an independent film is "peanuts." (a filmmaking term). I hope you'll take a look at this concept video and tell me what you think.

Sunset in Yeni Şakran, Turkey

Photo by fortuna1us

An Izmir Sunset

by fade_out79

Flickr Tags: Izmir,Turkey

Hüsnü Şenlendirici ve Trio Chios - Gel Gel Kayıkçı

"The Two Sides of the Aegean Sea" is a musical collaboration between artists from Greece and Turkey. Featuring Hüsnü Şenlendirici, one of Turkey's finest clarinetists and the Trio Chios, from the small island of Chios in Greece, the CD represents probably one of the best examples of how music-rather than politics- can bring cultures together. Not only that, the fact that, in the hands of accomplished artists of this caliber, each musical style is allowed to mingle and enhance the other, while at the same time, not losing any of its identity.

The Toothpick Story

While I cannot verify the veracity of this details of this story, I can say that it was most likely told to me as factual.

On a trip to the far eastern regions of Turkey, my friend and his traveling companion, after long and tedious hours of driving, grew rather famished and began to hunt for some roadside restaurant. Eventually, they found a place which Americans would consider an equivalent to a "greasy spoon."

For the benefit of those who have never been to Turkey I will attempt to describe the typical diner of this sort.

The proprietor, a paunchy mustached man, sits at his podium like desk, with his bottle of cologne and dish of cloves. At the rear, in front of the open heath oven, a bare-armed "chef" waits expectantly for his order, flipping a larval pad of dough back and forth and sneaks regular drags from his cigarette. There is always a surplus of waiters. All of them seem to have lost the natural ability to smile. The teenage nephew of the owner who portrays your waiter likes to watch television and has the magical ability to transport himself anywhere in his mind.

On the wall, you'll find an aged mural of Mecca hangs, showing a great arch of marching white-toga-ed pilgrims revolving around a holy cube. The blue "evil eye" talisman covers all the pagan rites while the predictable print of Ataturk, somewhat faded, takes care of secularism. So, after a glance around, you chose a table from all the other empty ones and you sit in the white plastic chair that gives ominously like an overloaded pack animal.

The pide- a kind of Turkish pizza- was nothing to write home about but it did satisfy the immediate need. The ayran- a buttermilk concoction- was thick and rich and pleasantly sour.

"Excuse me," my friend asked the boy passing by. "Could you please bring me a toothpick?"

The boy waiter looked nervously back at the owner who, watching from the distance, half-stood.

"Let me ask." the boy told the confused patrons.

After some feverish whispering between the waiter and his boss, the owner stepped forward. " Yes, Can I help you?"

"We just asked for toothpicks."

"Ah," the owner said with a decidedly unhappy glare. "We used to offer those to our customers, but we stopped this practice."

"And.. why?"

"Yes, well, last summer we had some visitors here from the west of Turkey. Istanbul or Izmir. And like yourselves, they asked for toothpicks. I was quite happy to oblige."

There was a pregnant moment of silence. "We were shocked, however, to find that they had not bothered to put them back when they were finished."

That's the story as it was related to me many years ago. When my story-telling friend concluded, I asked him, "Is that true?" He nodded and then shrugged as Turks are wont to do. I have thought about this story many times, unable to be fully persuaded that it could ever have happened. I'd like to think I was the victim of some joke.

Still, as Mark Twain once said, there is a "dismal plausibility about it that took all the humor out of it."

LiveJournal Tags: Turkey,humor,personal stories,travel,culture

Red Hall Basilica, Bergama, Turkey

Bergama's Red Hall (Kızıl Avlu) or Red Basilica was built for worship of the Egyptian gods Serapis, Isis and Harpocrates at a time in the 2nd century AD when Egyptian religion was reaching into the Roman Empire.  Faced with marble and surrounded by a colonnade, the huge building looked very different in Roman times. A stream ran beneath it in stone channels, its waters used for ritual bathing and ablutions. The Byzantines preserved the sacred space, building the Church of St John the Apostle within the mammoth ancient walls. The building is sacred still today, containing the Kurtuluş Camii (mosque) in one of its towers.   http://www.turkeytravelplanner.com/go/Aegean/Bergama/sites/basilica.html

This mashup of photos is brought to by Photosynth. http://photosynth.net 

Technorati Tags: Bergama,Pergamum,Turkey,Roman history,Travel,photography

Those that Chose to Stay - Valantis Stamelos

 Leaving one's motherland for a new home abroad takes a great deal of courage, stamina and the ability to adapt. It's not everyone's cup of tea, to be sure. So, what kind of person would pick up and move to an unfamiliar distant land, leaving behind friends and family, to start again?

For Greek-American Valantis Stamelos coming to Izmir was, in some ways, much like coming home. Up until the Turkish War of Independence in 1922, his family on his mother's side had lived in this area for centuries. Val grew up hearing many stories of what life was like in Turkey in the past from his relatives, nostalgia from a time before the rift between the Greeks and Turks.

Back in 2005, Stamelos, a former producer for MTV Networks and Nickelodeon, teamed up with his long- time friend from Syracuse University, Paras H. Chaudhari, to create their own production company, Crescent Street films. As co-writer and co-director of the award winning independent short film, Astoria Park, (as well as many other production projects) Val was already well on his way towards making a name for himself and his company in the New York film industry.

Then, however, his life took a turn. Following a short visit to Turkey in 2008, Val made up his mind to pursue his lifetime dream of living and working abroad. Naturally making a new life abroad has its appeal as well as challenges. "The most challenging aspect to living in Turkey," Val explains, "is getting a straight answer. Whether it's related to work, establishing residency, or directions to a place, it's become apparent that no one agrees on an answer, to which it can become a situation of the blind leading the blind. Not to sound negative, but it does take up unnecessary time from my day and my work."

And yet, "Having to learn the cultures and language of Turkey, while at the same time, share my background and perspective is really a life-giving experience. It gives you a genuine opportunity to build a bridge with people with an open heart and mind, that I wish more people would strive towards."

Not everybody was overjoyed with his decision. "Most of the reactions have been negative, which I can understand. But explaining my decision is like trying to convert someone to another religion. The best thing I can do is assure them of a plan that I have put together, and hopefully over the course of time, show the fruits of my labor."

And it doesn't help that there are plenty of stereotypes and misconceptions about Turkey and Turks. "The unfortunate thing is that most of the people I've argued with stake their claims about Turkey and Near Eastern culture based upon a talking box in their living room."

It's his dream to work collaboratively with local production companies and perhaps eventually work on his own projects here in Turkey. "My immediate goal is to establish freelance production work right away, say within the first 6-10 months. So far, it is happening. I have been able to produce for a few companies based in the UK, as well as work some smaller productions in Izmir." His long term goals are ambitious. "My long term goals are to establish quality production here in Izmir, Istanbul, and the Aegean region. Thus, I aim to raise the bar of production standards and produce not only for Turkish audiences, but more so for international audiences, in an effort to take production seriously here in the region."

In addition to moving to Turkey, Val also made another major life decision by marrying his Turkish fiancée last spring. In the past I have posted about his wedding party which included families from both sides of the Aegean. (see the Link) Val thinks finding love and making a new life go hand in hand. "The most rewarding aspect I would say has been experiencing a life with loved ones. Being with my wife and her family is truly a beautiful, evolving experience, that has helped my heart grow in a completely different way. "

His blog: From New York to the Mediterranean documents the challenges of starting anew of establishing himself and his business in Turkey, as well as his day to day observations about his new home. A recent blog post, The Greeks of Istanbul, describes the wanderings through the old city where once Greeks and Turks lived side by side, and the remnants of the lost Hellenic culture that still exist . Surprisingly he still find reasons for hope. "It seems that a wave of Greeks are coming back, as they love the city and feel a strong connection with it."

Being of Greek descent must provide a different perspective from the average expat. "When I see a rundown Orthodox church or Ancient Greek ruins in Turkey, I can't help but feel connected to them, and in a way, very sad.  Not because I believe it is inherently "Greek", which is most common among ethnocentric-minded people, but because my forefathers lived amongst other diverse communities, only to be driven out by war. If it wasn't for war, they would still be calling those same churches home, and their Turkish neighbors brothers"

And, reflecting on his own journey, he adds, "My personal pursuit in living here is to give meaning back to those ruins. So, being a Greek-American living in Izmir symbolizes the importance of my connection to this land, as it is the start of a new beginning based on mutual understanding and respect, not affected by negativity of the past, but by the positive hopes of the future."

Courtesy of Crescent Street Films, here is a video clip produced by Valantis recently.

Istanbul: On the Bosphorus from Crescent Street Films on Vimeo.

Technorati Tags: Turkey,expats,Greek-Turkish,Greek americans,filmmaking,video production,travel,Valantis Stamelos,Crescent Street film

Internet Ban Protest March in Istanbul

  Today's Hurriyet newspaper  reports of a protest march in Istanbul against the Turkish supreme court's decision to uphold the ban on YouTube. Hundreds took to the streets to show their opposition to the ban, as well as the blanket banning of thousands of other sites.

The group gathered at Taksim Square at 5 p.m. and marched to Galatasaray Square holding large banners reading “Censorship-free Internet,” “Do not click on our freedom,” and “Censorship protects you from the truth.” Demonstrators also had whistles, portable music systems and tambourines.

The joint press declaration read at Galatasaray Square protested Law No. 5651, which has resulted in access to more than 5,000 Internet sites being blocked in Turkey. The protesters demanded that the law be repealed and access to the sites affected by the law be re-established. An additional 500 websites are banned by various other laws and the protesters demanded that Turkish Internet users be allowed to access them as well.

To read the full article: click HERE.

Kemeralti – Izmir, Turkey

Flickr Tags: Turkey,Turkish Culture,Izmir,Kemeralti,Artwork,Art,Digital Art

Postcards, Photos and Impressions

Aunt Dot said she must get down to her Turkey book quickly, or she would be forestalled by all these tiresome people. Writers all seemed to get the same idea at the same time. One year they would all be rushing for Spain, next year to some island off Italy, then it would be the Greek islands, then Dalmatia, then Cyprus and the Levant, and now people were all for Turkey.

"How they get the money for it I can't think. Turkey costs about a pound an hour. I suppose they have contacts People are so dishonest in these days. What do you think they are all writing about?"

"The usual things, I suppose. Antiquities and scenery and churches and towns and people and Xenophon and the Ten thousand did near Trebizond and what the Byzantines did, and coarse fishing in the Bosphorus and excavations everywhere and merry village scenes."

The passage above comes from a wonderfully whimsical book called, "The Towers of Trezibond," by Rose Macaulay, which, although it provides many observations about Turkey, is actually more about the strangeness of the people that come and their odd motivations.

The Turkey book. I have often been encouraged to write my own Turkey book but I doubt if I will ever get around to it. My life in Turkey, I'd suppose, is not a particularly "marketable" commodity in the publishing world. As Turkey is both my home and my life, it would probably have to be an autobiography at this point. If nothing else, I can safely say I am only an authority on my life story.

I mean, it's one thing to write an account of your experience while living or traveling in Turkey, but it is, in my opinion, quite another to use that limited experience to become an expert on the country or to write a book. Pretending to be an authority on a country as complex as Turkey is asking for trouble. It can inadvertently become embarrassing when writers pass on in accurate information, or tiresome stereotypes or just plain silliness.

Even after all the time, I have spent in Turkey, I would still say whatever I write about Turkey is simply an accumulation of experience and not much more or less. (In the past, I have written about Bulent Ersoy and Kadir Inanir but that was after a lot of research and advice from the Turks who know.)

I love reading about other people's experiences in Turkey. Even people who have been in Turkey a relatively short time because their impressions are based on experience or observations. Impressions don't have to be based on facts, of course and very often, they defy the facts. This paradox makes them more interesting and more real.

However, it is sad to find visitors to Turkey (occasionally ex pats), many of whom come, see and rush off to see the next thing, suddenly becoming the expert of all things Turkish to their friends back home. It often seems that experience and understanding take a back seat to the power to impress. What a grand life I am living here, and all that. I suppose it comes from a lack of reflection and interpretation. That takes a bit more time and a bit more thought. It is easier to aim and press the button and then regale the glories on Facebook.

A British friend of mine, Ursula, years ago got into the annoying habit of saying, "Been there, done that" to everything anybody else would speak about. It was a marvelous way to dismiss all and sundry. "When I was in Samsun last week, I saw-"

"Been there, done that."

Absolutely nothing you could do could impress her. If you had told her that you were planning to mate with aliens the following night, she would have blown smoke in your face and said her little phrase. And still, if you had asked her to provide one clear and meaningful impression she had of her Turkish experience, she'd only have one or two snappy lines. To me, that doesn't seem particularly cost-effective. "A week on the Black Sea and all I got were these pithy remarks."

It is all too easy for traveling to become devoid of meaning and, still worse, end up as merely a way of impressing others. In my parents' day, a tour of Europe was supposed to have the same effect- a two-week rushed tour of all the European capitals is later condensed into 200 slides on the carousel to bore the neighbors with. "Ah, this, my friends, is the five star hotel we stayed in in Roma. Roma, that's what they call Rome, there. Here is the food we ate in Milan. " For middle-aged Americans touring Europe, being there and doing that meant taking a lot of pictures. Because, after all, what's the point of it all if you do not have any proof? On and on, pictures of vast cathedrals, blurry pictures of piles of food, bridges over canals, familiar faces in unfamiliar places. Naturally, the reality was quite different and probably none of the places they saw made any sense to them. Worse, they came and left, unchanged by any of it.

Today, for the American in need of stuffing the credentials of their personal history, Europe is less impressive. Even Turkey, once considered the land of Oriental enchantment and rather mysterious is on the verge of being of being over-publicized, but then it always has been. Even back in 1956, when Rose MacCauley wrote "Towers of Trebizond," her Aunt Dot was declaring Turkey to be spoiled, becoming all soft for the Turkey as it once was.

My problem is the opposite. After spending only a few days in a place with even a limited degree of comfort and charm, I am ready to pack up all my things and permanently relocate. Antalya was like that. I spent two weeks there many years ago and, although I had planned to tour to outlying villages and whatnot, I ended up becoming too lazy to do anything but soak up the atmosphere of the place.

And that is something I especially love about Turkey; if you actually choose to stay in one place and get to know the people who live and work there, ask questions, open up and share things, there is a feeling of belonging that makes all that rushing quite counter-productive and silly.

Not long ago, I was at a restaurant in Izmir and one of the waiters became inordinately friendly and explained that he remembered me. Possible, of course, but a little unnerving. As a teacher, you can meet a lot of people who are apt to remember you better than you remember them. But upon investigation, it turned out that nearly a decade before I had spoken with him for a few hours at an open cafe in Cesme, a sunny resort about an hour out of town. We had talked about our lives a little on that early summer day. Here it was, ten years later, and he even recalled my name and my job. It's the thing I suppose I love most about being in Turkey. That warmth that goes beyond expectation. How could you have that experience if you were all about taking in the most in the least amount of time?

Ursula has lived in Izmir almost as long as I have. About ten years ago, she made a proposition to my Turkish friend and I. The three of us would " go and do" the southeast areas of Turkey. Despite some qualms- a weekend of traveling with the wrong person is endurable but a week and a half is like dental surgery- I agreed.

She loved to play the part of an archaeologist, although, after a few very shallow questions, I decided it all purely on the lowest amateur level. She knew nothing about ancient history, which, at least in my opinion, would seem to be important for archeology- and couldn't tell a Hittite excavation from a hole in the ground. I suppose it was another example of living-abroad-as-character-building exercise. As we moved from city to city, Adana to Antakya to Antep, she would clutch and consult her well-thumbed guide book.

She insisted on going to every museum and every ruin mentioned in the book. My Turkish friend was much harder to impress. Some of the things he liked but most he took a brief look at and shrugged. I became very exasperated and fed up with being towed like a derelict barge from spot to spot and had a tizzy-fit in Urfa- I think- one morning. What was the point of being there if I couldn't focus on anything for more than twenty seconds?

The strangest part of it all was that her opinion on everything she viewed, tasted, smelled or touched was very dependent on this particular source book. For instance, once when we ate at a rather humdrum restaurant mentioned in the book, we found the chicken overcooked and tough. (If I had pulled out the tongue of my shoe and ate it, it would have been easier and more tasty, I think) I watched as she put all her elbow grease into cutting the desiccated poultry leg, but, as we marched out into the street, she turned and said brightly,"That was one of the best meals I had since we left Izmir." Relying on a book to tell you what to think about your experience seems to me the opposite of travelling.

On another occasion, my Turkish friend once played a marvelously wicked- but witty- trick on her. After a weekend in Bergama, he later showed her photographs taken on the trip. She was happy to pass them around and show all her Izmir friends who sat with us, suddenly becoming an expert on this or that. I was slightly confused because I couldn't actually remember some of the places in the photos. Of course, being a philistine, I tend to think one collapsed temple or one toppled pile of columns is the same as any other. So, I really couldn't be sure if any of the places were familiar or not. Later, I learned that, during the trip, my friend had gone into a shop, found some postcards and took photographs of them. Examining the photographs more closely, I noticed in a few of the corners a large blob of a thumb that held the postcard.

Technorati Tags: Turkey,travel,travel writing,The Towers of Trebizond

Bulent Ersoy- Turkish Diva

Turkish culture is often full of enigmas, paradoxes and peculiar surprises. Discovering these oddities one by one is of the most interesting things about living in this country. Bulent Ersoy, in most people's opinion, would fall in this category. Despite the mixed feelings this singer arouses in the minds of Turks, she is unquestionably an cultural icon and a respected diva.

Similar to Zeki Muren and others, Ersoy is beloved for keeping the alive the traditional Turkish Classical Art Music - the music of the Ottoman palaces. This musical style, which was widely played in the urban areas in the past centuries has a distinctive sound. Beside Turkish art music, Ersoy is a famous popular music singer who has managed successfully to incorporate the classic styles and instruments of the past with the music of today.

Born in June 9, 1952 in Istanbul, Ersoy had already appeared in films and developed a following as a recording artist before having gender-reassignment surgery in London by a British plastic surgeon. Naturally this decision sparked a good deal of controversy at the time and, through the years, the pursuit of publicity has certainly been one of the trademarks of her career. 

In the years following the surgery, Bulent Ersoy's career took a hit, following the decision by Turkish  authorities to ban all public performances by transsexual singers in what was cited as a crackdown on "moral deviancy." This was during the regime of Ahmet Kenan Evren, who assumed the presidency of Turkey after a military coup. She lived in exile in Germany and Australia as a result of the ban throughout the 1980s.

 

 

Here is a clip of Bulent at the high point in her career, looking glamorous and drawing the applause of her audience as well as the eyes of a possible love interest. The song is "Impossible."

She was allowed to return to Turkey in 1988 due to revision in the Turkish Civil code which recognized her feminine gender. Her popularity soon became greater than ever and the transformation from male to female was widely accepted by the public. However, in the following year, she was the victim of a would-be assassin from a ultra-nationalist extremist group. And not long after her recovery from this shooting attempt, Ersoy made new headlines by announcing her engagement. Quite predictably, the newspapers and magazines had a field day and many felt more shocked not by the fact that a transsexual should marry but that her husband was some twenty years younger than his bride.

In 1998 she and her husband were involved in a car accident in which she was badly injured. Drama is a part of Ersoy's existence so it should come as no surprise that her marriage didn't last long after her husband was caught with a call-girl.

Although she is now semi-retired, Bulent participated in a Turkish pop idol contest as a judge. This is where she met her second husband whom she married in July 2007. That marriage also ended not long early the following year.

Bulent's  public persona is an odd mix of artifice and flamboyance. Time has not been as kind to her as it has to many Turkish female stars. Currently her appearance ranges anywhere from merely outrageous but glamorous (gowns and hair styles that could make a drag queen wince and wonder) to rather frightening (looking like a china doll colored with tempera paint by a 5 year old.)  Add to this, an excessively polite manner of a diva, peppered with the occasional pornographic metaphor or reference and you have a formidable celebrity. Nobody can say she is not one of a kind.

Bulent Ersoy's long waltz with controversy landed her in hot water once again in 2008 when she made remarks on a popular television show that were deemed critical to the military. An Istanbul public prosecutor has subsequently filed charges against her for "turning Turks against compulsory military service", which could have resulted in four years of prison. On December 2008, Ersoy was found not guilty in a Turkish court. Since any criticism of the Turkish military has long been considered absolutely verboten. some have considered this to be a milestone for free speech in Turkey. Others write it off as just another drama in the life of an over the top celebrity.

I always thought it showed a great deal of maturity by the Turks to be able to separate the artist's life and slightly peculiar qualities with the art they that produce. No matter what the Turks might think of Bulent Ersoy as a person, whether they love her or whether they merely tolerate her,  there is no denying  that she has enriched Turkish culture with her talent and her personal style.

 

Live performance

Technorati Tags: Transsexual,Celebrity,Turkish,Turkey,Bulent,Ersoy,Turkish Music

Lake Salda, Turkey

Original Photography  by chetoo;

Lake Salda is a mid-size crater lake in southwestern Turkey, within the boundaries of Yeşilova district depending Burdur Province, and it lies at a distance of about fifty kilometers to the west from the province seat of Burdur.

Salda is often cited as part of the Turkish Lakes Region that corresponds to the lands that extend across inner west- to southern Anatolia, especially in the provinces depending Isparta and Afyonkarahisar, although Lake Salda is geographically separate from the larger lakes which are more to the west and, being a crater lake, is morphologically different.

The lake area covers 4,370 hectares, and its depth reaches 196 meters, making it one of the deeper lakes in Turkey, if not the deepest.

It is a popular excursion spot across the region or from beyond, the more so due to the hydromagnesite mineral found along its coasts which are believed to offer remedies for certain dermatological diseases. The shoreline surrounded by black pine forests are also popular among hunters, the game and the fowl available including quails,  hares, foxes,  boars  and  wild ducks, aside from the lake's fish. White sandy beaches, limpid water and seven crystal-white islets within the lake complete the scenery.

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Salda

Technorati Tags: Turkey,Tourism,Lake Salda

Turkish Holiday

Holiday... HD // 2009 from Techo on Vimeo.

A very professional video of summer in Turkey. Congratulations to technofilm for this outstanding work.

Television News in Turkey

I find Turkish television news very interesting, but only if you start with the premise that about 10% is actually news. The stories can be extremely educational- though probably not in the way they were intended. A lot of ex-pats avoid the local and national news altogether and I sort of feel sorry for them. They don't know what they are missing. (Literally!)

I think it is a bit peculiar to decide to live in a country and then do everything possible to avoid learning about what's actually going on. Sometimes I'd meet my circle of friends with news of latest constitutional crisis or horrendous calamity and they would knit their brows, without a word to say. It didn't seem to have anything to do with them. Having said that, many of them would probably have the same ostrich-mentality back in their own countries.

Perhaps they are right. I am not sure, but I would say it might explain how innocent foreigners can wind up in the middle of a war zone wearing flip-flops and Bermuda shorts, getting bum-rushed by soldiers on tarmacs to waiting helicopters.

The morning news is traditionally the lightest news of the day, the idea being not to push viewers too hard before they start their workday. I guess they fear that too much talk about the economy or crime or government investigation will result in mass nervous breakdowns in the afternoon. So one is apt to see a lot of You-tube videos showing "wacky" stories- babies dangling from hot-air balloons by one leg- and promotions to the channel's latest evening soap operas. (Yes, they do consider it news.) Stories about the latest invention for losing weight or the oldest living granny. (Sixty-seven grandchildren!) That sort of thing.

The evening news, on the other hand, pretends to be hard-hitting and serious. The new readers work each story as if they were making it at a potter's wheel. Reporters at the scene, shouting at the edge of hysteria and shaky camera work. Stories that last 10 minutes with footage that lasts only 45 seconds, shown over and over in a tight loop. This is punctuated by in-studio interviews that inevitably wear down into the same dreary talking heads. Talking heads, channel after channel. 

The producers seem fond of emotive background music to set the proper tone of the story. Sad stories without fail use violins or smoky-voiced Sezen Aksu songs. Funny stories are accompanied by silly music from the 70s and 80s or that dreadful "Yakty Sax," better known as "The Benny Hill theme."

When all else fails to attract attention, there's human anatomy. In summer, any low-down excuse will add a filled bikini into the program and truly any excuse will do. Dangers of sun-burn is tried and tested. The number of tourists is expected to increase? Then you had better show a German vixen cavorting with her friends on ze beach. I have even seen stories about breast cancer treatments that used Natasha-like women "au naturel" on the beach as their primary footage- tantalizingly digitized boobies under threat of attack.

Anyway, here is my selection from today's news.

According to the morning news, new laws in Turkey will prohibit, vegetable and fruit sellers in the farmers' markets - and presumably at bazaars- from shouting. Violators will be fined 50 tl. for each instance of such noisy marketing. The sellers interviewed were, of course, rather surprised or confused. Some had that look you often see, of weary resignation. Many were nonplussed by the new laws and in response, have decided to "sing" their prices instead.

There was another story about "One Minute" Cafe in New York City. The reporter desperately attempted to make a faulty connection between the name of the establishment, run, incidentally, by a Turk and an Israeli. The infamous incident in Davos last year between Erdogan and Perez was once again rehashed. Flustered and fuming, the Turkish president's face was once again beet red, with his index finger potently erect. Link

In end, as anybody could have clearly seen at the start, the name of the diner had absolutely no connection to that silliness but, as the Turkish co-owner painfully explained, was a reference to the speedy service.

Still another story, this time from the US. According to the news, salt is now banned in New York restaurants and. users will be fined up to $1000. This left me scratching my head with visions of a customer in disheveled business suit being hauled out of Gotham Fine Dining in handcuffs as he hisses to his wife to "Toss the shaker. Do it.  For GOD'S SAKES! Do it!"

In fact, further details erased that extreme vision. According to the proposed ban, restaurant chefs were forbidden to use salt in their prepared meals. With shakers on the table, the amount of salt used by the customers is purely a matter of choice. A bit more research on this subject reveals that New York assembly member Felix Ortiz has introduced this bill while  the mayor, Michael Bloomberg, "has stopped well short of proposing an outright ban on restaurants adding salt, instead campaigning for a voluntary cut of a quarter over five years."

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/11/business/11salt.html

The fog of the original story was starting to clear somewhat. Presently it made more sense to me. I recall my father whose high-blood pressure forced him to adhere to a strict no/low salt diet. In the beginning, he was exasperated and depressed. "Nothing tastes good anymore,"he'd complain. After a few months and my mother experimenting with other spices, he became more accustomed to living without salt. "You cut out salt and all of the sudden you start to notice how much salt is in EVERYTHING. Even toothpaste and the worst? Ready-made soups." I didn't have the heart to tell him that condensed soups were not meant to be served directly from the can.

In New York, where eating out is the norm, trying to stick to such a diet would be next to impossible. It'd be like trying to find a non-smoking bar in the 1990s.

Still, I kind of wondered about both of the newly- proposed laws. If all of the details are accurate, then I have to question the logic behind the laws. I mean, is it really necessary to make every violation a punishable offense? Is self-regulation now obsolete? What's next in the farmers' market.. all signs must be printed and not hand-written? The vegetable sellers must all shave and wear uniforms?

In New York, what's next? No sugar in anything because some people are obese? Eventually we may find ourselves dining on a moderate sized bowl of oatmeal and plain yogurt on the side with a peeled apple slice for dessert.

Some laws are designed to protect the citizens and some are designed to keep public order. But what is the purpose of fining chefs that use too much salt and poor cucumber sellers for shouting?

But perhaps there is a higher level of logic at play. Some laws, it seems, are designed merely to add a new source of revenue to the local government.

Bird-Catcher and Blackbird- A Turkish Fable

Here is the fourth in our series of Turkish fables. I have left off the moral of the fable. In general, the meanings are either clear or open to your own interpretation. All of the fables I have submitted come from an anthology of pre-Republic Ottoman literature collected in a book by Epiphanius Wilson. HERE is a link at Google Books.

The Bird-Catcher and the Blackbird

A bird-catcher was setting his snares and a blackbird, flying by, caught sight of him.  

"For the love of God, "he said to him, "do tell me what you are building there." 

"I am founding a complete city." 

The blackbird believed this deceitful answer  and alighted on the net. Scarcely had he touched it, before he found himself caught. 

When the bird-catcher came, the blackbird said to him, "If this is the way you build your city,  you won't attract many inhabitants."

Dumb Luck

It became an evil-looking day yesterday, warm, windy with a constant threat of storm. Add to this, in the late afternoon, the sky turned an ominous dark orange. This happens from time to time when wind from the south blows dust up from the deserts of North Africa. They call it "the Lodos." I find it charming to name the winds.

I was to meet my wife and her mother at the municipal opera house last night for "Adriana Lecouvreur" by Francesco Cilea. To say my wife is an enthusiastic opera fan is definitely an understatement. I can be convinced to attend ever so often. I enjoy the spectacle of the sets and costumes more than the actual singing. And it is always nice to get out of the house and splash a bit of culture on yourself.

Now I know that it sounds awfully posh to say lightly, "Oh, we were at the opera last night" or "Didn't I see you last week at the opera?." However, that isn't quite the case here in Turkey.

The crafters of early Republic had the noble and enlightened view that cultural events would have a civilizing effect of the society and so, made such things as operas, theater and symphonies affordable. (That's an idea that warms my heart but it is too bad that they didn't feel the same way about public libraries.)

So, going to an opera isn't furs and tuxedos, top hats and carriages waiting in the rain. The best part of this Turkish arrangement is that it allows exposure to great works of Art, which often seems much harder in American society. The sad part is that, human nature what it is, most people would prefer to wallow in the garbage of television in the privacy of their own homes, rather than making the minimal effort of going out for classic works. And I have no right to look down on anybody for doing that since I can wallow with the best of them.

My wife likes to show up early with her mother- another raving fanatic- so I was, thankfully, allowed to arrive later on my own. She knows everybody there at the opera house and they know her so I was able to escape all that fuss and waiting, hand-shaking and pretend-recognition.

For a few thousand years,  Izmir has growing around a bay, hugging it protectively like a mother, and there are two ways to travel, the long way by bus or taxi around the bay or the short way, cutting directly across by boat. That being a rush-hour, I opted for the convenience of the ferry boat crossing. With a few other wind-battered passengers, I sat in the open section, once designated for smokers. (It is rather unclear what the exact rules are, at the moment. The sign clearly warns that smoking is forbidden but nobody pays much attention. None of the crew seem interested in reminding them of the rules.)

The section was dark as a well and nearly as empty. A nuclear family on tour was trying to snap a photograph of the city and a woman fought with her long beige scarf that made Arabic script in the air. To shelter from the worst of the wind, I sat with my back against the wall, watching the gradually-narrowing panorama of Izmir.

Behind the few tall buildings sat mounds of points of lights from the homes and shops of people on the hills. Amber of the street lamps, blue or yellow lights from the windows and the green-tipped minarets of the mosques.

The social heart of the city The Kordon- that famous street with many bars and restaurants runs along the seaside-was, from that distance, a long dotted line of carnival lights that described the water's edge. I could feel the spitting rain and the sensation of waves pounding against the side of the ship as we trudged to the opposite side. The buildings became clearer, as we grew nearer and nearer and I could just make out the toy cars bumbling down the sea highway to the west.

In my ears, Leslie Feist sang to me:

There's a limit to your love
Like a waterfall in slow motion
Like a map with no ocean
There's a limit to your love
There's a limit to your care
So carelessly there
Is it truth or dare
There's a limit to your care

Beyond her song, the wind ironically mocked the sound of flames. And then suddenly, I was at peace.

How wonderful the city looked at that time of night and at that moment before the rains. A mist of endorphins, a powerful feeling of well-being. I thought of how lucky I was, and how little I generally appreciated that fact.

That I should be even here in this country. For so many years, It had been a deeply-nestled fantasy to leave home and cross the ocean and see the places other travelers had described. To travel so far. It should never have happened. I should have been too afraid to make that crossing. I should have found some excuse not to venture so far from home.

It was not all luck but most of it was. Dumb luck. That I should be here- in this 5,000 year-old city and at this time of our history- when things are convenient, when risk is manageable and avoidable and fear tolerable. And it was dumb luck to be on this rather insignificant planet at all, in what seems to be a great emptiness that nobody can explain.

Sunset over Turkish Coast

Flickr Tags: Turkey,Nature Photography,Sunset

Yeni Türkü - Olmasa Mektubun

If there hadn't been your letter…

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Forbidden Love's Fervent Kissing

The popular Turkish soap opera, “Aşk-ı Memnu” (Forbidden Love), adapted from a novel by renowned author Halit Ziya Uşaklıgil, appears to have come under the scrutiny of The Radio and Television Supreme Council (RTÜK) for its scenes of graphic extra-marital sex.

Family and Women’s Affairs Minister Selma Aliye Kavaf stated that her objections centered around the show's erotic scenes, which she believes encourages young people to engage in sex at an early age and poses a threat to Turkish family values. RTUK has issued fines and punishments for the series due to its “fervent kissing” scenes and because it presents an extramarital affair as normal, damaging the public values. For the interesting debate on this issue click at the

Today's Zaman article here: http://www.todayszaman.com/tz-web/news-202138-101-do-tv-series-pose-a-threat-to-family-values.html

I remember this whole argument when Dallas first appeared so so many years ago.

Now the reruns look as tame as Popeye cartoons. And after all, what would soap operas be without a bit of "fervent" kissing? No smoking, no drinking and now no kissing. ( Maybe a peck on the cheek to Ayse Tezye will slip under the censors' radar.)

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