I am back
to the megacity. My days fly by, many things happen, life flows... The traffic
and noise, the fatal classics pushing the limits of all the saints’ patience, are
matchless (!) as always. Friends are priceless but I will say no more for now. If coming back to one’s hometown
is similar to coming back to a womb-like space, Istanbul is the most chaotic
womb ever. It is cancerous and gangrenous. An alienated mother who does not
feel obliged to welcome her own child. Yet, there is magic in the everyday existence,
which hits you every now and then. Seagulls accompanying the ferries during a cloudy
sunset or the blue tiles of a small mosque (e.g., Rustem Pasha) which you
walked by but never walked in can blow your mind and take you to
another dimension. The soul of Mimar Sinan probably suffers whenever he looks
around the city yet must be very proud of what he achieved (even more today).
The best
part: The colors and the tastes of the Turkish food, the meyhanes, bazaars…
Exploring them through old friends' eyes make me smile. I love the excitement
in their eyes! People constantly complain in this city and the routine life
kills the beauty. Beggars and stray dogs are everywhere but mostly harmless… Ask the street vendors or Orhan Pamuk if you don’t
believe me.
Although me
and my brother hosted many non-TR friends in Istanbul over the years, I remember
the first and the last one most vividly. Maybe because I actually came to the
Ataturk Airport, walked in, and waited for the friend at their exit gate. After surviving the hours in a stuffy steel box called airplane, passport control and claiming luggage, the automated exit door finally opens up, he/she looks for you in that crazy crowd immediately. And just for you. They scan dozens of strange
faces with the hopes of finding you there. There is a magic in that moment, at least
for me. I have been to the both sides. The door opens, the eyes meet, the lips
curve to smile, then the adventure begins!
