Turkish crisis

"A convulsive crisis is gripping Turkey. At stake is not just the choice of the next president or even the future political direction of the country, but the fundamental identity of the Turkish state and society. How this crisis is resolved will determine the evolution of this pivotal nation for years to come, and will - whatever the outcome - have repercussions far beyond Turkey's borders. (...)"

In openDemocracy.

The real Turkey

"When hundreds of thousands of protesters filled the streets of Istanbul on Sunday, it may have looked like a protest of government policy.

It was not.

Behind the slogans and signs of marchers in Istanbul on Sunday and in Ankara two weeks ago was something much more basic: a fear of the lifestyles of their more religious compatriots. (...)"

In The New York Times.

"It was with a certain excitement that I got up in the morning, early, to head for the protest that everyone has already heard about.
If you've been living in a cave, Istanbul has been home to the biggest protest known in the history of our Republic, the Caglayan rally.
People from all over Turkey arrived in Istanbul early on a warm summeresque morning to voice their opinion on the current political affairs. (...)
Once we got closer to the meeting point, we got greeted by police men and women who were doing searches, just to make sure that we could rant in complete security. (...)
The press was already there but they weren't very welcome. The first rally that was organized in Ankara on the 14th of April had been badly covered and belittled by the press. Each time a journalist was spotted they were booed away. Especially the ones related to Dogan Media Conglomerate. (...)
Everyone stocked up on survival food and around 11.30 we were already singing and chanting slogans.
The incredible variety of citizens that was there was amazing. Students, elder people, villagers that came specially for the occasion, veterans... All side by side to defend their opinion. (...)
Minutes and hours passed by and speeches were made, songs were sung. Thousands and hundreds of thousands of people became one and revolted against the possibility of an Islamo Fascist near future. They demanded that all other parties become one and fight the AKP. (...)
Even though by that time it was already 6pm which had meant that I hadn't sat down for 8 hours. Exhaustion was close but it was all worth it.
The protest ended towards Tunnel in Beyoglu around 7pm. There was no violence. No provocation. No threat. It was just a warning."

By Idil Jans, in Metroblogging Istanbul.

World’s safest city

Efficient advertising

With a Sock Industrialists Association and a Chamber of Sock-makers, Turkish socks must be really good, no?

A different side of Istanbul

«'I have never received flowers in my life', says Macide Açkıra, a thirty-one year old gypsy selling flowers. 'But every morning at nine thirty, my husband returns from the flowers auctions and brings me these... to sell!' she adds laughing with a throaty voice that suggests decades of heavy smoking.
Early each morning, while Macide is still stirring in her sleep, her husband leaves with fellow gypsy men from his neighbourhood, heading out to a different part of Istanbul to participate in the daily flower auctions. Female gypsies do not appear at the site of the auction; it is the duty of the men to do so. As the men bargain and purchase the day's bouquets, their wives meet and begin their half hour walk through the center of the city, to their designated spots on the side-walks of Nişantaşı, one of the poshest neighbourhoods of Istanbul. The men arrive in a shared pickup truck and unload the flowers in plastic vases and rusting tin cans that have been rescued from piles of trash. There is a short commotion as both men and women line up the vases, arranging the bouquets according to stem height and colour. It seems they are all secret experts on colour therapy as the neat rows of vases are shifted into perfect angles to catch the eyes of the hundreds of passerbys throughout the day. The order and angles of their flowers' display seem to take into account the dances of the sunlight and shadows throughout the day, for as the hours change, the flowers seem to as well in both presence and appeal.
'My favourite flowers are not among these here today', she comments, barely looking over the thirty vases that hold over six hundred flowers on that particular day. 'Fresias and hyacinths ares seasonal and can only be found in January to February'.
Macide has been selling flowers in the streets of Istanbul for the past eighteen years. It was her mother who began teaching her the trade and the one who eventually passed the business down to her. Not having children of their own, her husband and she focus their daily lives around the purchase and selling of flowers.
'I work from 9:30 in the morning until about 9:30 in the evening. The day ends when my husband appears to pick me up at night. Then together, we throw out the flowers that haven't been sold that day', she says. The average number of flowers her husband brings her every morning are the same, yet the amount remaining unsold at the end of the day depends on weather and luck... Those and of course unrivaled bargaining skills accompanied by a slick understanding of human psychology.
'I usually don't target particular types of people to call out to. I wait until I notice someone glance over at my flowers at the corner of their eye. (...)
'People buy flowers when they are sad. Women especially - when a women is upset - notice, she will buy flowers. So I also call out to one who look sad or as though they are having a bad day. Sometimes I smile first, to give them a non-intruding sense of kindness. Then I offer them some flowers. I never have to suggest a particular kind, at time slike this, people instinctively seem to know what they want. (...)
The last confession comes as a whisper and is interrupted by the arrival of a woman, a customer dressed in white and black, wearing stiletto heeled sandals and carrying a Gucci purse.
'Give me two bunches of gerberas and three daisies.'
Macide shuts up and begins to wrap up the flowers in shiny wrapping paper.
'Hello, welcome... Okay, okay...' she keeps saying, but there are no compliments. The customer ignores her greetings and almost rudely orders for other flowers to be taken out and wrapped. Once she has her armload if flowers, she strides away without thanks. Macide sits back down, apologizing to me for the woman's rudeness. (...)
I wonder aloud what she would do if her husband were to bring these roses home for her tonight. She thinks for a moment, stands up straighter under the rain and extending out her neck to the darkening afternoon sky, lets out a last throaty laugh.
'I would probably hit him on the head with it! Giving ME flowers is not romantic! That's like your man giving you a newspaper for Valentine's Day!'.»

in TimeOut Istanbul, nº 33, October 2003

Stew pot

Izmir, Turkey
01/11/2006

Recipe for a strange physical (and psychological) state

Ingredients:

Normal çay, elma nargile, normal çay, kaşarlı gözleme, muz çay, gül nargile, peynirli gözleme, normal çay, muz, nane nargile, normal çay, elma nargile, kumpir, kup balbadem.

Preparation:

Mix all the ingredients, one by one, exactly as the previous disposal. Consume it in a hot and dry summer evening.
Enjoy.

Dunyayi Kurtaran Adam

Your life will not be the same after this movie.

This home-made version of a Star Wars earlier chapter with the Indiana Jones soundtrack and in turkish is, definitly, an art masterpiece.

(Link in the title.)

Shame

"The agreement to start talks with Turkey will probably displease Mr Osama bin Laden, who has done everything to prevent this moment arriving". Diogo Freitas do Amaral (Portuguese Foreign Minister)

Fonte: Wikipédia.

It starts to burn around here - VI

Aula prática sobre a importância da água

Após mais dois dias sem um pingo de água na canalização, considero-me mais do que preparada para escrever uma tese sobre a importância deste bem essencial no dia-a-dia de cada ser humano. Dada a falta de tempo, aqui fica um resumo:

Capítulo primeiro: higiene pessoal

Após 56 horas sem poder tomar um duche e a lavar os dentes a seco, damos por nós, estranhamente, a tornarmo-nos menos próximos fisicamente uns dos outros. Facto adicional: está um calor que não se pode.

Capítulo segundo: necessidades biológicas

a) Necessidades biológicas relacionadas com a alimentação

Nas primeiras 12 horas é possível cozinhar com água engarrafada. Depois? Só se se quiserem dar ao luxo de lavar toda a loiça com água engarrafada.

b) Necessidades biológicas relacionadas com o W.C.

Primeiro facto incontornável: a casa de banho é partilhada por seis pessoas.

Segundo facto incontornável: sem água, o autoclismo é um mero objecto decorativo.

Dúvida existencial: manter este compartimento encerrado a sete chaves, com perigo de morte a cada entrada, ou abrir a janela e permitir que o vento distribua o cheiro uniformemente por todas as restantes divisões?

Capítulo terceiro: sem solução à vista

Infelizmente, enquanto ninguém se decidir a restabelecer o sistema, não há muito que se possa fazer. A alternativa possível é passar o dia na rua e aproveitar todas as casas de banho decentes que se encontrar...

... e andar com uma escova de dentes no bolso também não é mal pensado...

À falta de Queima...

Living in Istanbul

Após três dias sem gaz e um dia sem electricidade, quando tudo parecia estar a funcionar correctamente e quando todos pensavam que finalmente se poderia tomar o tal banho mais que merecido, o único barulho que se passou a ouvir na canalização da água foi o vazio.

"Dondurma experience"

Sim, aquilo é gelado (sim, eu sei que parece borracha).
E não, a foto não é minha (tirei-a daqui) mas, com o calor à porta, parece-me que pouco falta para poder tirar uma do género... ;)

It starts to burn around here - V

a simple truth

It starts to burn around here - IV

It starts to burn around here - III

Documentary time with the Istanbul Film Festival

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It starts to burn around here - II