cirkin sehir

The strong breeze smelled of Istanbul, the air that I missed as it swept the leaves of some palm trees (yes there are those, too). S. was delivering some paperwork to the consulate, to do with the military service as I was taking pictures of some new residential towers across from the hill I stood on. One of many thousand hills of the city. I walked back to the car, watched some men finish their lunch meal break, and heard two other young ones talk about the basketball game last night. Partly cloudy, but bright blue sky and that feel on my hair (the remaining bit, at least) that fills me with love for my beautiful city, yet again. Oh, how I miss it when I am away!

A lovely 6-year old girl is pulled by her grandma as she takes a giant step to walk on to the pavement. I hear her say:

"...ama cok cirkin bu sehir yaaaa.."

down the line

Just darkness.. Some darkness, as much as of it you can find in southeast of England where every little town is next to one another around London. Yet as the train rolls past, what I cannot see in the dark of the night but feel, the long fields of countryside, I smell the autumn rain and the the wet earth. The orange fluorezcent lights of the sidewalks blink one after the another, marching through a street that winds up and turns away. 3 rail tracks illuminate the evening with red glare as we speed through a train station. We won't stop because this is the express train. On another cool, wet and silent night, red glares will illuminate the grey British skies, chanting masses will storm down the streets and a huge bonfire will warn the souls in Lewes in a few months time. D.'s plane will soon touch the ground bringing fresh smells of Bavarian countryside and meld into wet Sussex earth. The couple sippingg their wine will take the next flight to somewhere warmer and sunnie in the south. When the gentle, awakening touch of English late summer rubs my ear, a family a little east of me will gather for their dinner, at some unknown place to me, in Kent. The southeastern countryside will fall asleep when D. lays her head on my shoulder on the journey back to London on the train. She will fall asleep too as I look through the dark of the night. Jose Gonzales will whisper hymns from the lakes of Sweden and the Andes kf faraway countries...

Dylan didn't care

I looked at Due Sardi from the back seat of the cab I was comfortably sat and the pizzeria was open, business as usual. When I say 'I looked', we've got to make sure we understand how that look was. There are different types of how you look at things from the back seat of an English cab.

You can be a completely lost tourist in Tokyo and you'd just be bending over to kiss the window with your cheeks to be able to see the top of the tall buildings and the details between the millions of people crossing the street, amazed and looking stupid from outside. If your body type is short, you're in for a good laugh even.

You might be cool and indifferent. You'd be looking but you ain't be seeing. You've just thrown a couple of dead blue eyes into the setting dark.

Or you'd be looking with a purpose to see what you know is there, or is not there. That's the one I just had then.

Take a walk down the Strand and then on towards Fleet Street on a nice summer's evening. You'll appreciate the calm of the narrow streets and can tell the difference between a steel-and-glass and a Victorian. You can even appreciate the depth and the width of the sky, and you won't be seeing much of that throughout the year anyway.

I realised I had to pee. Take a piss soon. Otherwise I was determined to walk all the way home. That's when I decided to take a cab. If I hadn't, I would have gotten away by spending another ௨௩ on top of my 2 pints of cider if I had just taken the bus but instead I ended up वसा pounds by taking the cab. And you know people in London are always so worried about saving another quid or more. That's precisely why you just got to bite the bullet and take the freaking cab. You can't piss in your pants and this is important.

I realised I had exactly Xx.Yy change in my pocket and for a reason I don't know (and I never know this) I felt it would be rude to give the cabbie the exact amount I owed him. So, I told him to pull aside before the bridge, although I lived on the other side of the bridge. He was happy I tipped him the marginal amount. But the bloody driver wouldn't just leave and it would be stupid if I crossed the bridge to go home after having told him to drop me off before the bridge. You understand my concern, right? I tipped the guy and I am ashamed if I have to walk further than he dropped me off. So, I felt obliged to go to my local crazy Turkish shop. I ended up buying 2 bananas and condensed (Greek style) yoghurt.

That was a bit foolish and expensive, but I was home and the cabbie had driven away. Most importantly, I avoided pissing in my pants, and if I took a bus, god knows what would have happened. I was listening to Bob Dylan and I think he would just do the same I did. He wouldn't even care. If he did, I couldn't care less.

London to Copenhagen

A beautiful summer's evening in London. After a pub's affair for World Cup with S., I cycle back home through the usual route with Billie Holiday in my ears. Usual yet unusual... High Holborn's there the same way, so is the City, but something isn't or rather ought not be. Yet, still there, that's the Foundry at the edge of Great Eastern Street and Old Street. The haven for many who passed through here, now a subject of complete demolition to make way to a new fancy hotel the neighbourhood community don't want. Maybe the international agency of leather suit travelers want it. Since Monday, locals have been sitting-in in front of the building to avoid destruction. So far, a 48 hours of success. And tonight, as I pass by, on a nice summer's evening, they've put up a torn up clothing against the wall as a screen and are screening a documentary on Ungarnshuset in Copenhagen.

A familiar language on the screen. The frozen and the warm streets of Scandinavia over the short time of life I spent there. As I stop by to watch, more and more do so and we add up. It was a warm summer's day I left Denmark 4 years ago. There was the smell of warmth and friendship in the air and the World Cup fever around the corner...

donus mektubu

Kadim dostum,

Bugun 3 Mayis 2010, Mayis ayinin ilk Pazartesi'si ve dolayisiyla Ingiltere'de resmi tatil gunu. 2-3 haftalik guzel havalardan sonra, soguk, yagisli ve bogucu bir haftasonu gecirdik, bugun de yari-kasvetli bir sabaha uyanarak. Ingilizler'in pagan geleneklerinden uyarlidiklari, tarih boyunca onemli hadiselere de denk gelmis ve bugunlerde Isci Bayrami ile de es anlamli olarak kullanilan 1 Mayis'i takip eden ilk Pazartesi, cok uzun yillardir oldugu gibi, bu sene de resmi tatil gunu. Ve belki de, isminin yarattigi sembolik degere de atifta bulunulmak gerekirse, son yillardaki en acikli Mayis basi.

Secimlere 3 gun kaldi ve goruntu hic de ic acici degil artik. Muhafazakar Parti'nin son hafta icerisinde, secim anketlerindeki tekrar yukselisini belki farketmissindir bile. Bircoguna gore ise, halen tek baslarina iktidari saglayacak cogunlugu elde edemeyecekler ama ben ayni goruste degilim. %35 civarinda bir oy oranina sahip olacaklari tahmi edilmekte, ben bunun %37-38'lere cikabilecegini dusunuyorum. Liberaller gercekten de %28'i tutturabilirler belki ama Isci Partisi'nin de %30'u gececegini sanmiyorum. Kaldi ki, oy orani degil secimin kaderini belirleyen; 15-20 tane secmen bolgesinde belirlenecek ulkenin kaderi. Partisine en sadik secmen Muhafazakarlar'a ait ve 13 yillik bir bekleyisten sonra, buyuk bir azimle gideceklerdir oy kullanmaya bu Persembe. Aynisini, kendini yenileyemeyen bir Isci Partisi'nin taraftarlarindan beklemek zor olacak belki de. Liberaller ise garip bir kisir dongunun parcasi: Eger bu secimde iktidar ortagi olabilirlerse, secim yasasini degistirmeye calisacak, gelecek secimler icin onlerini acacaklar; eger bu secimde de yeterli sandalyeyi alamazlarsa, kendilerini engelleyen bu sistemin kurbani olarak, bu sistemi degistirebilecek iktidara da sahip olamadan, bir baska baharda gene ayni kadere teslim olacaklar.

Belki de bunlarin fazla bir onemi yok bile. Son gunlerde pek cok kez degindigin ve bugun de bir haber sayfasinda okudugum uzere, buradaki secimler politika uzerine. Bizdeki secimler baska denge unsurlarini ihtiva ediyor ve politika neredeyse hic konusulmuyor bile. Gercekten de, son secimlerde AKP'nin vergi ve emeklilik yasalari ile ilgili vaatlerini hatirlayan, veya hatirlatan var mi? Ama buradaki partiler arasi farkliliklar, o kadar da buyuk degil aslinda. 2 buyuk parti de savas yanlisi ne de olsa. Benim icin daha da onemlisi, simdiki hukumet 3 hafta once gocmen yasalarini degistirip, vize almami zorlastirdi bile. O adamin televizyona cikip soyledigi yalanlar, secmeninin gozunu boyayabilir zira, onun politikalarindan nasibini alanlar biz yabancilar daha iyi biliyoruz belki de onun soylediklerini ya da soyleyemediklerini.

Soguk ve kasvetli bir havaya girdik dostum ve benim umidim zayif. Ama bilirsin, heyecanli biri olarak, beklentilerimi alcaltmayi severim, olur da bir surpriz yasanirsa sevinecek bir bahane bulayim diye.

Eminim sen de takip edeceksindir ama kotu haberleri iletmek zorunda kalirsam haftanin sonunda, acima ortak olacagini umit ederim. Korktugum basimiza gelirse, yakindir bu topraklardan da gonderilmemiz. O zaman belki de, bekledigimizden de yakin bir zamanda gorusmek dilegiyle,

Sevgili dostun,

Cevat Kelle.

HE* said 'one minute' but he didn't mean it that way

Addendum, May 3rd, 2010:

Following a message from my father, I have now read 3 articles from centre-left leaning journalists on the lecture by Ahmet Davutoglu, a minister under the liberal-conservative AKP Party, and to my mild surprise, all of the articles compete with one another in praising him. Is this a reflection of their hotel and other expenditure bills for the weekend in London and Oxford paid by the Turkish taxpayers?
http://www.sabah.com.tr/Yazarlar/kahraman/2010/05/03/oxfordda_dis_politika
http://www.radikal.com.tr/Radikal.aspx?aType=RadikalYazarYazisi&Date=&ArticleID=994923
http://www.candundar.com.tr/index.php?Did=12442


Original text:

When I received an email from my undergraduate university, Sabanci University, about a conference on Turkish Foreign Policy, organised in co-ordination with Oxford University and taking place in one of the colleges of the latter, I said to myself "what a great chance to visit another English town that I haven't been to before". What a fool I was, that I realised as soon as I stepped outside the Oxford Rail Station only to be amuse myself once again: As an outsider, a Londoner, I confused Oxford and Cambridge again and realised that I was actually here almost exactly a year ago. Be that Cambridge may remain as an undiscovered city for me, my 2nd trip to Oxford was nonetheless a delightful one.

The conference was organised by the partnership of Sabanci University with the South East European Studies at Oxford (SEESOX) to investigate Turkey's foreign policy in a changing world: Old alignments and new neighbourhoods. By all means, it felt as if the stress was rather on the new neighbourhoods than the old alignments, at least for the Saturday sessions of the 3-day conference that span from Friday to Monday, 30 April - 2 May. One of the main reasons to be at the conference was to watch Kara (Karabekir Akkoyunlu) give his excellent presentation on Iran - Turkey relations, a spin-off from his PhD. research at the LSE. Not only that he delivered his speech in exact 15 minutes with a very clear tone, posture and flow, but also enlightened the audience with certain recent developments on the Iranian front of Turkish borders and reminded all to re-situate the current exchange between the two old states into one of a centuries-old political relationship and develop a political framework for Turkish-Iranian and wider politics in the region within this context. His speech was part of Significant regional relations II: The Middle East session (the other 2 of the 3 significant relations are those with Russia and the Caucasus and South East Europe).

Kara's fellow lecturers in the session talked about the relations between Turkey and the Arab World, Israel and Kurds, respectively. The speech on the Arab World challenged the perceptions of the Turkish audience on the perceptions of Arabs over Turkey. After all, some sections among the various Arab societies may not regard Turkey as highly as we are being told in our home territory by our ministers Reem Abou-El Fadl reminded us, a notion that we tend to overlook, as we often forget to see the heterogeneity in the definition of the Arab World. The speech on Israeli relations one of a pragmatic-critical one as was expected but also elaborated clearly by Soli Ozel, although at times, I've caught a bit of a depreciation of Arabs by the presenter: This was one of my criticisms about the conference, the over-confidence of some of the Turkish presenters and the audience, alongside the overrepresentation of male population over females, and I guess these two do in fact go hand-in-hand. The last of the session's presentation was on the so-called 'Kurdish problem' (a term I repeatedly to refuse to accept) but unfortunately the speaker's delivery was so weak, I do not have any clear notes on what he tried to say.

This was the 2nd session we attended on Saturday, the 1st of which was a morning session on the Russian and Caucasian regional relations. Presentations on Armenia, Georgia, Azerbaijan and Russia sparked up some interesting discussion, obviously and expectedly mainly focused on the Turkish - Armenian relations but I have to say, I did not hear a convincingly strong argument, nor felt a heated debate (which I always believe, if done in a well-mannered way is a strength for an organisation as such). The best part of the morning and early afternoon was in deed non-related to the conference: Running away from the rain and the cold in London to be greeted by sun in Oxford in the morning and taking a long lunch break after our morning session to rejoice at the infamous Turf Tavern pub with Pimm's and lunch.

The highlight of the day came after the session with Kara (as described above). Ahmet Davutoglu, the Turkish Minister of Foreign of Affairs was to give a keynote lecture on Turkish Vision of Regional and Global Order: Theoretical Background and Practical Implementation. He arrived at St. Antony's College, Oxford University around 5 PM with an entourage of academics and journalists, amongst which I could count Can Dundar, Cetin Altan, Cengiz Candar, Hasan Bulent Kahraman and others. A set of photos were taken in the gardens of the college, while I was re-uniting with former classmates and teachers from Sabanci University who all came around here for this event.

Prof. Davutoglu (and I shall refer to him with this title as explained here) made clear to the press that this lecture was going to be that of an academic one, possibly a wrap-up of his academic background of years, his theories that are now well-known amongst many Turks, also spiced up with some of his recent political adventures. In a rather strange coincidence, the day also marked the 1st anniversary at his Foreign Ministerial post as he assumed this role on the 1st of May 2009 after having served as the Chief Advisor to the Ministry for a number of years under the AKP rule. I have to say, I was somewhat impressed by his lecture for a number of reasons: To begin with, I guess I had rather lower expectations from a Turkish high-rank politician to deliver a clear speech. Despite the fact that I knew about his professorship, having studied at Sabanci University provided me with a very high-level of knowledge and presentation skills in political sciences. Yet, Davutoglu was good. Furthermore, his calm and friendly manner appealed to the audience. Yes, I know very well that a politician with such sweet and mild charm could be one of the most dangerous of all, but it did feel rather sincere for this occasion. I was impressed by his attempts to respond to all the questions from the floor (and of course a question from the floor at a minister means, it is from a member of the press and one question entails 6 others). His adventures from the past year as he conveyed us through his stories amused the lecture theatre a lot (amongst which, the one where he had to abandon a conference to embar upon an emergency trip which includes driving to Konya, borrowing the special jet plane reserved for the Ministry of Transport, picking up the Prime Minister from his holidays in Bodrum and travel to Russia with other high-ranked ministers whilst everyone was on a summer holiday, right after AKP survived a constitutional decision on party closure and Georgia and Russia were on the brink of the war that followed after, was the one that everyone listened to with much enthusiasm, and to me it sounded like a Turkish rip-off of Ocean's 14 or 'come on Tayyip, we've gathered the old team for a special football game in Moscow, get on board').

The day was a long venture. After Ahmet Davutoglu's lecture, a heavy rain started. As a group of 6, we made our way towards the rail station for the 3 of us to take back the train to London. We managed to have a very efficient, extremely delicious and a rather inexpensive cheap meal of tapas in 45 minutes and over a large jug of sangria on the way. The sun had just set and weekend trippers were making their way back to London as we embarked upon the train. An hour later, we were back in London Paddington Station.

*HE is capitalised for its double referential meaning: both as a third-person singular pronoun and also to the British abbreviation for His Excellency, an honorfic style used for high-ranking members of certain states or kingdoms, in this case for the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Turkish Republic.

The title refers to a moment in Prof. Davutoglu's presentation where he made a 'one minute' remark with reference to Prime Minister Erdogan's Davos remark, which he used in a different and unexpected context, to which he and the rest of the lecture theatre laughed hard at.

bir topağacı-kabataş yürüyüşü antolojisi

bugün saat 11:15 ila 11:40 arasında gerçekleşen ama hayatımın farklı dönemlerini tekrar tekrar yaşadığım kısa yürüyüşten seçkiler, şehrim İstanbul'dan bir kesit:

- her mevsimde, havada, yaşta, sıcakta, soğukta, yürüyerek, koşarak, zıplayarak inip çıktığım merdivenlerden aşağı indim. hava güneşli, saat 11'i biraz geçiyor.

- lise 2 ve 3'te dershaneye giderken hep tercih etmekte zorlandığım ayrıma geldikten sonra şair nedim caddesi'ne doğru girdim.

- tek başıma veya başka bir şehirde yaşamaya başladıktan sonra daha çok ilgimi çeken çamaşırhane'nin yanından geçtim.

- sağda, o hep çok sevdiğim, tepesinde minik bir kasrımsı ev olan dar ve küçük sokağa baktım.

- 4 yıl önce, S.'nin kan testi yaptırdığı, camiinin yanındaki, köhne sağlık ocağına baktım. yanından birlikte geçerken, 'burda yaptırmıştım kan testini' dediği soğuk kış gününün gri gökyüzünü ve sağlık ocağının mutsuz görüntüsünü anımsadım. gökyüzündeki güneşe bakıp, gülümsedim. o günü ve o sağlık ocağını sevmiştim.

- W Hotel'e geldim. geçen sene konferans hazırlığı sürecinde orada akşam yemeği yediğimiz günü anımsadım, ve R.'nin Akaretler hakkında 'burası Disneyland olmuş dediği anı'. sağlık ocağından çok farklı bir atmosferdi.

- o sırada kavşakta karşıdan karşıya geçerken önümden bir taksi geçti. çavuşoğlu taksi...

- akaretler'den aşağı yürüdüm. lise son'da E. ile çıkarken, kavga edip geçici ayrılık yaşadığımız bir dönem bir çocukla öpüştüğünü anlattığı bir bahar akşamı onun evinden dönüşte caddebostan

- taksim dolmuşundan inip, akaretler'den yukarıya yürüyüp, teşvikiye üzerinden eve gittiğim anı anımsadım. (sonra, yıllarca, A. olan ilişkim dışındaki ilişkilerde tam sadakati benimseyemememin nedenini E. olan ilişkimde yaşadığım travmalara bağlamışımdır).

- dolmabahçe'ye doğru döndüm. orta okulda bir yılbaşı akşamı. H ile Taksim'den Kuruçeşme'ye yürümüş, Kuruçeşme'den aldığımız bir muz likörü (ben) ve şarap (H.) ile yağmur altında bu cadde üzerinden geri Taksim'e yürümüştük. o gece ilk defa sarhoş halimi görmüştü ailem, 2 gün konuşmamıştı babam benimle.

- karşı kaldırımda ise, bu seneki yılbaşına yakın bir akşam F. ile beklenmedik bir yürüyüş yaptığımız geceyi anımsadım, beni sürekli yola doğru itip durduğu.

- orta okul mezuniyet balomuzun yapıldığı swissotel'e bir bakış attım sağ tarafımda, tepede.

- babamın omuzlarında, küçük bir çocuk olarak, eski açık'tan ilk canlı futbol maçımı izlediğim İnönü Stadı... (normal yaşam süremden 2 yıl eksiltecek olan kanser teşhisine yapacak doktorun bilmesi gereken bir gerçek olabilir erken yaşta Beşiktaş taraftarı olmuş olmam)

- solda, yolun karşısında dolmabahçe camii. küçük yaşlarımda babam, amcam ve amca oğlu kuzenimle birlikte sabahın çok erken saatlerinde uyandırılıp abdest aldıktan sonra saatlerce dizlerimin üzerine oturtulmak üzere vaaz dinlemek ve bayram namazı kılmak üzere yollandığımız camii (ileriki yıllarda, daha geçerli ve mantıklı nedenlerle dinden uzaklaşmamda etkisi olduğunu düşündüğüm, ama önemli bir deneyim olarak anımsadığım bir olgu olduğunu düşünmüşümdür bunun yıllarca)

- ve hemen dibinde kabataş iskelesi: elimdeki boğaz manzaralı yeni açık bjk-gs maç biletini yırtıp atmamla sonuçlanan beklenmedik bir mart akşamı, meltem, ve iskelenin yanından A. ile yürüyüşümüz. üzerinden 3 yıl geçmiş. saat 12:00'de kendisi ile buluşmam gerekiyor, geç kalmasam iyi ederim.

ve kabataş'tan tramvaya bindim, saat tam 12:00'de olmam gereken yerdeydim. 45 dakikada parçalı hayatlarımı (parçalı bulutlu değil, tamamen güneşli bir havada) tekrar yaşayarak... güzel bir güne güzel bir başlangıç oldu. biraz olsun beni ben yapan anılarla, biraz beni ben yapan şehirde, bir kez daha...

hepimiz gececegiz bu kopruden

50 kurus




basbakan'in 'ucarak belirledigi' iddia edilen 3. kopru guzergahi

kopru gecis ucreti

Thanks: Ulas Akin

do your homework

I just received the following email from the Human Resources Department of the office I work at:

Dear MR CAVUSOGLU,

Following an update to the Prevention of Illegal Working: Immigration, Asylum and Nationality Act 2008 that came in to force on 29th February 2008, we are now required to carry out repeat checks of your documents showing your entitlement to work in the UK every twelve months.

Our records show that you commenced employment on 01 July 2008.

Please bring evidence of your entitlement to work in the UK into the HR Reception, Room W100, First Floor, Tower Three, by 12^th of April 2010 for us to make the annual check.

Please see our website for detailed information on why it is important that we retain a copy of documents proving your entitlement to work in the UK:

http://www2.lse.ac.uk/humanResources/pay/preventionOfIllegalWorking/preventionOfIllegalWorking.aspx

If you do not produce documents to establish your ongoing entitlement to work in the UK, your contract with the School and your salary payments may be affected.

Please note that if these documents are not produced we may also contact the UK Border Agency Employer Checking Service to verify your continued entitlement to work in the UK.

Here is my response:

I will bring the passport over, but don’t you already have a copy of my Work visa? That should clearly state the validity of my work permit. I’d be happy to hear why non-EU residents have to go through such practices when all their records are kept at the respective authorities? This should be a co-ordination work between the HR of the relevant organization and the Home Office. I’d be happy to hear how this system is not able to maintain itself.

Why the hell, do we then have to go through interrogations every time we enter this country, every time we want to receive services that we are entitled to? Are you so confused because you've created so many different layers of mental panopticons? If this is the system you've decided to come up with and entangle yourselves, please do your homework before asking others to tidy up behind yourselves.

i was thrown into the sea

I asked:
- So what is Danae the goddess of?
She replied:
- I was the lover of Zeus.

That was not really the answer I was after, but I was not as surprised about the fact that she referred to the source of her name as an "I" as I was surprised by the fact that 'we do not learn Greek mythology until 2nd year of high school, all other cultures do, this is stupid!'. She was in London for a few days for a dance seminar. She said she is from lower-classes of the society, she works in different towns, teaching all ages between 3 and 50, body movements for the former, salsa for the latter and any other advanced dance courses for whatever in between...

I moved to my new house finally about a week ago. It was a bliss waking up to sunshine and the noises of the ducks for the first week. After a temporary 9-day accommodation at R.'s kind offer and using the storage room in my office as my own, I finally started moving into my new home. Y. gave me a helping hand on Monday to move the final bits from the office to the house. She had never walked by the canal over the last half a year she lived in London, so I thought it would be a good idea to introduce her to this one of the most underrated features of London, despite the cold and the lonesome evening. After an just-over-half-an-hour walk to Angel, accompanied by mind puzzles (i.e. you tell the end of a story and the other has to guess the story and the only way to information is by asking the narrator 'yes' or 'no' questions), she took a bus home from Angel.

It was cold and I could not be bothered to walk back. I walked to a convenient bus stop where I could take the 349 for the first time ever: an easy 20-minute bus ride back home.

She had a bag of heavy books and she said she likes to learn more and more about dancing. She said she hasn't seen any of London although this was her 3rd time in the UK. "I come and attend the seminar, then I have to go back and continue working". She also said:
- The only thing I remember about that park is that huge writing about some "city farm". That's where I need to go, that's where my hotel is.

349 did not look as if it wanted to arrive. A Turkish girl made about 5 different phone calls in the meanwhile. "I came to London, it was not an easy decision, but I go on with my life now, I don't have to have a new one, I made this decision", she was saying in one of them. In the latter, she was telling N. Teyze not to worry, the bus was late, and she could walk if it hadn't arrived in the next 5 minutes.

Danae was confused and wanted to know whether 349 would take her to 'the park where the hotel' was. Another lady at the bus stop was complaining about the failing London Buses. I personally never trusted them! She said she will 'hit at the driver about this!' We told Danae that 349 was the only single-vehicle-route for her to get closest to where she needed to go. When asked 'how long do I need to walk?' and then said 'I don't want to walk in that area', we both said 'it is safe, don't worry'.

She exclaimed:
- The crisis is bad. But, it affects the poor much worse. The poor is even poorer now. You know, when we have a crisis in Greece, we all go for a coffee, if things go bad, we need some Greek coffee.
(I did not have any intention to go into the debate of the 'real name' of that type of coffee...)

349 arrived. Apparently the Turkish girl only needed 3-4 stops, if I were her, I would have already walked that distance! Well, maybe this was the only chance to make 4 phone calls without having to respond to N. Teyze whilst being kept away legitimately by the London Bus system.

We got off where I thought the 349 would divert from the main road with Danae. The short walk became a 12-minute one through the cold. I helped her carry the bag of books as she rolled me a cigarette. She said she spent the whole day in Old Street at the seminar and decided to have coffee with a friend in Angel. She did not eat anything in London since she came.

- What do you eat here? It's expensive and the food outside is really bad. I don't eat... or, hehe, I eat coffees, 3 cups of coffees, every day.

When I first assumed she was from Spain, I should have known from her accent that she was Greek. I asked what Danae meant. That was after when I accepted to have a beer at her hotel bar before I left for home. In fact, I was craving to go home, finish the rest of the tortellini and have a 'michelada' style of beer.

- I was the lover of Zeus.
- How many did he have? Lovers, I mean?
- Hahahaha, he had so many!!
- So what happened to Danae? I'm sure Hera wasn't happy about all this.
- Hera threw me into the sea, and I died.
- That's a shame. Didn't Poseidon or someone help?
- No.

She said she did not know much about London. I gave her the advice to walk around the canal, she said she did not even have time. I left after the round of beer she offered me. I learned more about Greece, dancing, Danae's fate, what Greek people do in a financial crisis, 3 new town names in Greece (which I now forgot), see the shiny eyes of a 'fallen goddess'. It was even colder outside, I was hungry and had to pee soon, so I took a cab back home. The cab driver said he grew up with Turks in Stoke Newington. I told him a bit about the similarities and differences between Turks and Kurds. He said 'yarrak' and 'pezevenk' as I left the cab. I told him he learned the 'correct words'. He was actually a joyful man who seemed to have a big heart. The cab was warm and I got off of the bridge. I looked over the canal and thought how underestimated some things are.

why and why not

Unexpectedly and cheerfully, I woke up for the 4th morning in a row to sunlight and the noises of the ducks from the canal. A couple of video calls with my parents and they were happy to see my new surroundings. So was I. I didn't mind that it took me a couple of hours to get up, take a shower, have breakfast, read some news, organise and leave the flat. I cycled by the canal, bought myself a nail clipper, a suede shoe protector spray and headed up north towards where I lived a couple of years ago for a few months. Back there, when I had first moved in, it also felt right, and there was a lot of sunlight. What followed thereafter had impacts on where I am now.

I thought for a moment that I saw an image of London that didn't resemble anything of the sort I have ever seen here before. A row of new developments, but taller than they usually are (a mini-scale of Manhattan tall residences), in Dutch-like bright shades of yellow and red, lined up in a crooked street, resembling that of an ancient Roman city, bending towards the right as an inclining railroad tracks disappear into the linear perspective, at the end of which my eyes all but could miss the glamorous Emirates Stadium of the Arsenal Football Club. I was heading my way up to the Market Estate Project, a collaboration of 60-some artists who displayed their interpretation of the last remnants of a 1960's modern housing-estate that is going to be demolished in the next few weeks. But before I made it to the exhibition, I was drawn but what I had just seen. I cycled into what I then realised was a dead-end street, only to realise that, there was yet another one architectural feature, a house reminiscent of a Western European rural architectural features in the midst of a row of Victorian houses with a secured gate and a cobblestone pavement entrance with a wild garden on the back of it. Astonished as I was, I made my way towards that street where the colourful new developments led the way to the stadium (and, to my disappointment, they were nothing other than another fancy new development): It was 3 PM, I was cycling slowly through a crowd of Arsenal fans, it smelled of meatball grill mixed with ongoing chants for an industry that drags millions behind itself, and yet there I was, wheeling slowly but resolute towards a childhood memory. I was an Arsenal fan for that moment.

The Market Estate Project was the first highlight of the day. As the sun started hiding behind the clouds and the gloom settled in and out, I realised this was the estate, at a flat of which I had dinner with my friends O. and F. last July on an unexpected invitation last year. It was an apalling summer's evening with around 10 C of cold and heavy rain which got me soaking wet. Now, I was sitting in the courtyard with O. and the sun had shown itself again and before seeing the actual displays of the project, we were catching up with the recent developments in our lives. That was the first time in the day when I said "this is why..."... We've filled ourselves with some cakes and brownies, and warmed up with tea while one of the live bands was playing one of D.'s favourite songs that she had shared with me some time ago. Market Estate Project was a memoir, but looked determinately towards the future as memories from my recent history were coming right at me. I enjoyed it.

After about 3 hours later, I beat the cold of the dying day with a cup of tea and a fast ride through the northern suburbs towards Stoke Newington. Another one of those evenings and I did not mind having some Turkish food on my own on a restaurant that I never tried before. As I gazed through the other tables filled up by couples and groups, I felt the uneasy comfort of biding my time at a place where I could almost feel familiar. The familiarity was what T. was looking for when she called me and said she had arrived at the pub where everyone going to A.'s house was eventually going to meet. Soon after, me, T., M., N. and D2 were waiting for the signal to move to A.'s. Boy, was he surprised and he seemed to enjoy every bit of the unexpected fright.

Some things just started not feeling quite right. The last time I was there, I also felt a bit alienated, probably mostly by the fact that I did not mind being in my own corner and yet felt at ease. It was not particularly the same this time. Somehow, the feeling that I did not have a corner of my own, and if I happened to try and have one, it would mean that I was being antisocial started kicking in. Although I felt like the contrary and, as opposed to the last time, did not even want to have my own corner, it just grew more and more uncomfortable that I somehow could not fit in. Realising this was the first step to feeling that it was a selfish thought process. D2 reminded me of AC K. Added to the fact that I dreamt about him, amongst my other best friends in a weird dream the other night, and that I also dribbled and took a few shots with a basketball for the first time since god knows how long (and boy, did I love to play basketball in high school!) and that we'd frequently play with AC K; D2 did in deed seem to embody some of the characters AC K had, in what feels like a finely balanced introvertedness that can come out rather sharp but at times very entertaining to those alert. That did not necessarily provide any comfort to my own surrounding.

In the end, A. looked happy for all that matters. I was happy to be part of this. And this was the peak of my self-interested thought process. Maybe I cannot help but shape my behaviour mainly around such thinking and that does not necessarily mean I'm only selfish. I just realised that it is more frequent around here that I am confronted with this and where I look to find the immediate support from people that I would like to consider as friends, I just see walls between myself and them. "Who put them up?" is not the main question here. This is when I first said "this is why not..."...

I'm looking forward to the football tomorrow. I want to run as much as I can, provide my teammates and myself with the most I can and score some goals and let it out. Does trying to be part of a team also sound like a self-motivated action? I don't know the answer to this, but I know that "it is why..." that I can end a nice weekend with all that I did today and football tomorrow and "it is why not..." that I do not even know if those around me tonight and tomorrow alike will judge me for who I am and that I am not even sure whether they would ever bother considering me close to them.

colour-coded cars and airport car-parks

When I was a kid, my father told me why we had a black car. He said the colour black for your car shows your strong and serious character. White for a car's colour is too insignificant and the car gets dirty rather easily. Or at least, it shows easily. When I took over my sister's car when he moved outside Istanbul, it happened to be black and I liked it. Throughout the time, I gained a lot of awareness on different price tags for same car brands of different colours, different meanings of what colours meant for what type of cars from the perspectives of consumers, sellers, traffic police officers. I also realised that my favourite colour for my car would probably be a dark-red, burgundy. Maybe there are articles out there that study the relationship between certain communities and their choices of car brands and colours with the environment and culture in which they live in.

Look at these satellite images of the JFK Airport in New York and the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport in Atlanta I cropped for you and compare the distribution of black, white and red coloured-cars in both. You'll be fascinated with the density of cars at Atlanta compared to JFK (please click on thumbnails to see larger images):

JFK:


ATL:


I do not yet know if one can come to any conclusions from this, but I will keep my investigation going.

You are a Londoner if:

1. You smell the fresh smell of burning coal whilst cycling through the detached neighbourhoods of South London and remember the fresh smell of burning coal you smelled when you travelled for hundreds of miles across the cities in your home country (and especially if you use 'miles' in stead of 'kilometers' in this sentence).

2. You know where and what St. Helen's is and why the bankers go there after the financial crisis.

3. You know not to state your ethnicity when the police is taking down a record because you know that it will be used to generate criminological intelligence which they will use against certain ethnicities to discriminate them.

4. You leave the stinky smell of the attractive East and cycle all the way through the City on a fine Sunday afternoon to play football in Chelsea with all-investment-banker squad of your friends who live in West London in between the smells of lavender and 5 cm. upper-hand of high heels.

5. You feel you are in your childhood memories' Mediterranean/Middle Eastern summer resort where the small edge between the cobblestone pavement and the sidewalk is bent at a lower spherical level than the rest of the road.

6. You go home at the end of a long work and drink-out day and still feel lonely and still find the excuse to blame it on the grey weather.

7. You can appreciate all deep fried bacon, sausage, beans, fried bread and others for breakfast.

There is a lot more, but already for the better or worse, I feel like I am almost one.

and now time for a little bit of dignity...

At the very end of the "UK News" section of the BBC News is the story of a European Courts of Human Right (ECHR) ruling the "stop-and-search powers" illegal in the UK. I have long criticised the uncontrolled use of the police of the "Terrorism Act 2000" by which the police could randomly stop and start interrogating people anywhere on the street or, as was recently the case for me, at your departure gate at a UK airport. The new ruling by the ECHR seems to bring some dignity into the "abuse of democracy" that has been haunting the hereabouts of Europe increasingly over the last decade. It leaves me little to wonder why BBC only put this piece of news in the bottom of a sub-section of its main website, as the national broadcaster is admittedly too much with the Labour politics which reflect itself in the Home Secretary Alan Johnson's surprise and appeal at the ruling of the ECHR.

Fortunately, not everyone is as insane and hawkish as Mr. Johnson in this country. Alan Johnson may be trying to find support by the working and the middle classes sections of the society that Labour has lost its influence over during their government in the last 12 years, who are now trying to fight for a final push before the 2010 general elections. The extreme abuse of policing powers is well documented in the statistical increase of the use of stop-and-search powers; a steady incline from 10,200 stops in the year 2000 to a 250,000 stops in 2008 (that is 700 people being stopped every day). The Guardian published the news on its frontpage next to the headline and welcomed the ruling by the ECHR:

The decision by the ­European court of human rights to find against the use of section 44 stop and search powers because they lack proper safeguards against abuse is of immense importance for civil liberties in Britain. Not only is the specific practice of random search rendered illegal by the court but its judgment focuses attention on the increasing abuse of measures brought in by the Terrorism Act 2000, and the resentment of the public.

The news brings to light a somewhat scary alliance between the ve and executive powers in this democratic country. Apparently, the "Policing and Security Minister David Hanson said he was disappointed at the decision given that the government had won all previous challenges in the UK courts". Either the judges in the UK have lost all sense of humanity or that there is not a clear separation of powers in the British democracy anymore, a notion that even "quasi-democratic" Turks like us are proud of its (thin) existence in our own country.

The Independent decided to publish the news from the perspective of the Conservatives, with whom they are more aligned with and possibly bidding to win the next elections (and they may be right). Almost ironically, Conservatives attack the Labour goverment for letting the police abuse their powers and promise to change the law to cut use of stop-and-search. One does not need to think too hard to come to the conclusion that this is potentially pure bullshit and a lame populist propoganda by the Conservatives to win the hearts of those (someone potentially like me, were I able to vote) extremely disappointed by the Labour's self-denial policies.

The ruling by the EHCR seems to bring some dignity and applause back to the European consideration of human rights. It is not the EHCR is making a bold decision, in deed, we have seen many and clear examples of this institution holding somewhat a valid set of ideals despite many consistencies and clashes in some of rulings they have had on similar cases (Turkish readers and students of law or sociology will remember the famous examples on different rulings cases brought to the attention of EHCR about the subject of veiled women). However, it remains to be seen how much the "awkward European" of Europe, that is Britain, as she likes to see herself, will respect this ruling. Already the "Chief Constable Craig Mackey of the Association of Chief Police Officers said officers would continue to use stop and search powers" while the appeal made by the government against the EHCR decision is pending. It looks as if intimidation and violation of human rights with respect to privacy and implicit alieanation and scare-away tactics against the "unwanted" subjects of this society will continue for a while, and I shall fear that Britain will have to hire a very good shrink or a brain surgeon to deal with its increasing paranoia problems.

Dinner table lay-out

This is not about the lay-out or design of a dinner table. This is about some dinner, and some lay-out or form of some streets in London, or in my thoughts.

A.k. does not eat meat. Whether out of politeness or sincere appreciation of the smell, he seemed to have been impressed by the lamb. R.s. did make all the food as well as preparing the dinner table. S. had a long trip earlier and seemed to be quite tired. She was on her usual go during the dinner conversation, though. We were to discuss possible collaboration opportunities between our 'centre' and an institute at the NYU that earned a new grant. Everyone was going to bring in ideas about their current occupation and where they see themselves in a few years time and how this could all contribute to a potential work that would come out from the collective work (or a merger of their individual works) of the people.

I knew I did not have much to say when it would be my turn. I did learn a lot of what others were doing, though, as well as getting more detailed information on what my colleagues have been working on. At some instances, I was working hard on grabbing a fruit out of my fruit salad with my spoon without making too much noise not to interrupt anyone. I only had to deal with what was on my plate, the wine was being poured down somehow.

At one point I was looking at the shape of a piece of lamb meat and thinking of continuity and randomness in shape and form of things. If they had asked me at that moment of what I was thinking I could have easily come up with the following, which I developed on my way back home after the dinner:

"I am thinking of the about how the mystery behind street lay-outs of this city differs for me than those of in Istanbul. As I walk even around in the avenues which I walked before in London, I always see streets that I have never walked into. They may be completely new, or I may have seen them before. However, I've never discovered them. I now understand why: In Istanbul, I would walk into almost any street I pass by. The reason is that there is a bigger curiosity in every street. Because I can never see the 'end' of the street, regardless of how you define an 'end'. For me, it means where my point of view, that is aligned with the road on the street, whether be it paved or unpaved, a dirt road or an asphalt-road, gets interrupted. There may be a building that intervenes into my vista, or the street may be turning to right or left, or there may be a hill going up or down, so my view would always be cut before I reach my natural limit of my sight. Then, because of that curiosity, I would go in and discover that street. This is due to the topographical diversity of Istanbul as well as its historical and architectural heritage.

In London, it is not the same, thanks to the fact that many of the streets are created in a grid-pattern where you can see how the street stretches to the extent of your sight. It just goes straight ahead, except for the minority of the streets in the historical parts of the city shaped by Roman architecture and city-planning. The rest is just flat. Added to it is the usual gray and misty weather so your vista is even more limited and you already know what the rest of the street is like. Therefore you don't walk into it. But at that moment, another curiosity kicks in. In fact, there is a funny dilemma, or a dichotomy. The sheer fact that the streets in Istanbul are more crooked and interesting make the city overall a more mysterious place, but because I have discovered much of that mystery, there is few left for me. However, in London, because I don't tend to go into every street because of their similar patterns, there remains a greater amount of mystery for me. And at that point, I start to go into smaller-scale details that I might have not done otherwise:

I look at the differences of elements and how they are aligned in different streets. The size of a park and whether it is on the right or the left hand-side, and how many residential places it would correspond proportionally to its size in the street it is located. What are the proportions of social-housing to a detached housing in this street? Where do the older type of terraced or detached housing stop and social housing begin on the same street? And even if these are streets in the same neighbourhood with similar typologies, then I would start to zoom even more to start thinking about what sort of stories are taking place in the households on a particular street. To be fair, I would do the same in Istanbul, but not out of necessity, but out of already established curiosity. However, here in London, that curiosity could be my only tool of differentiating between different locations even within the same neighbourhood..."

Maybe, this could have been my answer, but my response was actually much shorter and straightforward:
"I have not really been focused on academic research for over a year now and I do not know where I see myself in 5 years". I did talk about recent interests in migration policies and socio-political implications of different spatial configuration of different migrant groups but that did not evolve into a discussion that other people brought up into the table. Well, I wasn't intending to lie or make up a story anyways.

My whole existence there, as well as what was going around was a big story in itself. I guess at this point, it may even be relevant to reveal that R and S are damn world-famous sociologists. And the dinner was delicious and wine was good.

Close-up

I've just gotten to know a BBC Series 'Close-Up' which "focuses on aspects of life in countries and cities around the world. What may seem ordinary and familiar to the people who live there, can be surprising to those who do not". Here are some takes for the day from different continents around the world:

Escalators in Hong Kong as a means of transport, urban regeneration and community space:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/8441626.stm

Berlin's obsession with currywurst:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/8408716.stm

The mystery behind the sneakers hanging on from electric wires in Brooklyn, New York:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/8334137.stm

...and here is how Britain looked like a few days ago: