HH oder...

Hamburg Flughagen-the new S1 extension-Schlump-Schanzenturm-ex-Kafe X-tapas and sangria-Rote Flora-Kicker-Altona, Rathaus-H.&S.-Elbterasse-I.&F.-B.-Ferries an der Elbe-Speicherstadt-Kees Christianse-Hafen City-Elbphilarmonie-Herzog & de Meuron-Landungsbrücken-Rathaus-St. Nikolai Kirche-75.38 M.-S31-Taverna Sotiris-ouzo & souvlaki-Fabrik-Övelgönne-watching the ships get loaded across the harbour at 2 AM's silence-S.'s model ship-Strand Perle-Elbe Promenade-Altona-Ottenser Hauptstrasse-Zeisen Kino-Sabah Avrupa, Yogitee, nouss-nougat croissant-back to Sternschanze-Hamburger Berg-Reeperbahn-St. Pauli Theater-Gerhardstrasse-Herbertstrasse-meat-market (prostitutes) and window display-mexicana, tequila, b52-hardcore, heavy metal, minimal-Altona, fish market (literally)-fish breakfast at 5 AM in the morning-bei der Apostelkirche-Lange Reihe-Alster-A.&F.-a 9-month late delayed trip...

Es war super geil, wieder in Hamburg für ein paar Tage.

Hamburg Walkabout (7 September 2008)

I left H.'s house, turned right, passed by the U-Bahn station and decided to take a long, long walk. I missed just wandering around.

Walking down Osterstrasse, you can pass by the canals while the road widens with greens on each side and housing estates side by side with nicely settled 3-storey Northern Germany bricked houses and new developments.

Further south, I come close to Schlump, where the TV-tower is located. It sets the background to a massive, brown estate housing that seems to be standing proudly and at a big junction with a fading sun behind it. It flashes an idea in my mind: A photo collection of "Architectural Clichés"...

Concrete housing estate, and not-so-inviting skies behind.

Various colours of Hamburg and orange-bricks matching the oriental taste of this restaurant.


Street name reads "Collonaden" behind these colonades around Jungfernstieg. The grandiose of Hamburg Rathaus reach out to the expanding clouds.

Then, I decided to walk towards the HafenCity. This is currently Europe's biggest urban regeneration site. Billions of Euros have been invested in this inner-city island on the River Elbe, and architectural firms such as KCAP, Herzog & de Meuron, OMA have been designing the masterplan of and various buildings on the site. As a group of 4, we made a presentation on HafenCity last Spring at the LSE, and it was time I would go visit the site.

I figure "HafenCity" signs have been added to the traditional Hamburg road signs since my last visit.


Somehow, in my previous 5-6 visits to Hamburg, I never passed through Speicherstadt, this beautiful riverside area, that housed red-bricked massive storage facilities.

Some of these storage buildings are being renovated for the same use, while others are turning into office and residential blocks as seen in these pictures.


This massive development is Hamburg's 1st Public-Private-Partnership (PPP) investment. Red cranes fit the environment and can be seen all across the site, especially from this open, public-space.

Sunday strollers, fishermen make up the calm crowds around the HafenCity as a few tenants have moved into their new flats.


Children's playground overshadowed by construction, and cranes appearing once again at the HafenCity viewpoint. The further cranes are for the jewel of the crown, the Elbphilarmonie building that should look something like this, when completed:

Details on Elbphilarmonie and some curious people around the site.

Achievement of the day:

As I left HafenCity, I put back my music on. A guy leaning on railings by the waterfront said something towards me. I paused the music and looked at this very cross-eyed guy who was asking for directions to some bar/nightclub. I did not know about the place but when he said "it is near some Marco Polo-platz" I immediately recognised I was there a few minutes ago. Against his heavy German accent I was able to give directions:

"You have to go diagonally from here!"

"But how do I do that? Where do I turn right, where do I turn left?"

Against his anxiety and evergrowing German accent, I kept it cool to my surprise and managed with my German to tell him about a bridge nearby that he had to cross and then turn left from there until he saw people gathering at a plaza. I was proud of myself!

Boats parked at the river marina and Hamburg's elevated typology at the riverside...

Failure of the day:

I continued on the riverside through Baumwall into Landungsbrücken. The weather was getting better and there were countless tourists, young couples, old couples and families strolling by the Elbe. I took quite a lot of pictures and at one point came by an old accordion player with a sailor's hat. He had a nice background behind him with a huge sailing boat, for a nice photo. As I was preparing my camera, he noticed me and shouted at me to give him some change. I did not mind and was actually thinking of 'buying' his pose for my shot anyways. He had a beautiful smile in my interest and the potential capital gained from this interaction. I framed him at the left side of the picture with the partly cloudy Elbe background.

I went over to him and suddenly remembered I had spent all my change but 8 cents at the Bagel/Coffee shop earlier. The sudden change in his face from glory to misery really broke my heart. I was hopeless. I dropped the few copper coins as he looked carefully into my hands in sheer disappointment and I walked away in vein. I did not dare to look back as I was not expecting anymore hopeful sight in his eyes. He went on to play the same tune as I put my earphones back on.

I upset this smiling guy...

Approaching St. Pauli and its colourful scenes...

--------------------------------------------

On my way back I had some more food for thought. Once more I realised: The author is a lonely man. It is the collection of lonelinesses that create the author's masterpiece, the book. But there is someone else, who is lonely in town. The author is as lonely as buildings. The author and buildings are the only ones that would dare to stand on their own against the crashing wind, as dark and static as they can be in the setting night. Buildings are lonely, therefore the architect is also lonely. The author and the architect have one major difference between them. The architect creates the loneliness, and the author narrates it. The building is designed to inhabit people in it, but is always created on a superficial reality in an enclaved and isolated dimension. The stories are written for people to read but are created at times of self-prophecy. The architect produces the loneliness, and the author reproduces it.

--------------------------------------------

Ending a long walking day across the harbour at Övelgönne.

We stood by the great Schanzen fire.

http://www.spiegel.de/panorama/0,1518,576781,00.html

---------------------------
10 February, 2007, Berlin:
I said I would definitely go check that film. I asked to see whether she wanted to join. She said:

"If you don't mind going alone, I'll stay here and do some work and wait for you. Then you can bring us dinner on your way back."

I saw the film Szabadság, szerelem at Zoo Palast. The film was set in 1956 Summer Olympics that took place simultaneously with the Hungarian Revolution. As the Hungarians were fighting back the Soviets, their world-famous waterpolo team was trying to beat their counterparts in the Olympics semi-finals. Both encounters (war and waterpolo) were quite bloody and further dramatised by the cinema's wonders. After the film, it was time for questions and answers with the film crew: The young actors had little knowledge about the Hungarian Revolution as they answered the questions from the floor. The audience was challenging the limits of Soviet brutalism and acknowledging Germany's place in the 'free world'. After their introduction, the producer of the film came in a nice, black suit. He was a mid-50's man with a chubby posture. He said some familiar words:

"I am proud to be here at the Berlinale, for the first ever screening of this film. It is, for me, of special significance that this film was shot on the 50th anniversary of the Hungarian Revolution and now is being screened here, where was once West Berlin and where now anyone from the West, East or anywhere in the united and independent Europe and the rest of the world can come and see it".

He had a reason to celebrate and his remarks were not incorrect but this amplified enthusiasm of west = independence equation made it almost feel as if the Hungarian Revolution never was.

2008:
2008 saw celebrations of 40th anniversary of May 1968 movements. Retrospective looks at various journal articles, photo images and stories from the year also paid tribute to Prague Spring. The whole year marked Europe's embracement of social democracy that was means, ends and last glory days of what once Europe flourished upon: the welfare states, and universal social rights spread across societies. Film screenings and concerts reminded a revolution-drained masses of what rights were being fought for 'back in the days'.

6 September 2008, Hamburg:
I suddenly remember where I left the posters.

Only half an hour ago I was feeling too tired and lonely in this great crowd. Thousands of young people enjoying the great warm Autumn weather and partying after a whole day's flea-market shopping and entertainment. Streets were filled with antiques from 1960's households, silver teapots, give-away vinyls, an old turntable, a funnily elegant, rusty chandelier, film posters from German comedy or cheap erotic movies of the former decades. By every cafe/bar, there was a young self-proclaimed DJ hitting some tunes, and all sorts of food from the regular kebabs to meatballs, falafel to tandoori, bratwurst to muffins. Beer was sold for 1 Euro at some stalls, tequila for only €2. It was all very inviting, but having passed by here earlier, I was feeling even lonelier in the mess. But I came back to Susannenstrasse from Altona with at least one purpose. I was going to get ice-cream from the same shop I did 2 summers ago during the World Cup Final. I wanted to stroll back and forth on the very same street and maybe this time I would run into someone I knew or wanted to get to know.

I walked up towards Feldstrasse but returned towards the Schanzenfest area via Schanzenstrasse where I once bought a %85 volume Absinth to a friend back in Turkey. There was some Reggae music and it was enough to get me in the mood. At Altona, at dinner time, I had quickly drunk 2 beers and 2 ouzos and all I needed was another beer and some movements. Within 5 minutes I was smiling at the people nearby and dancing slowly on my own. I walked back onto Susannenstrasse and then into Schulterblatt, the heart of the event. The live-music stage at the junction of Susannenstrasse and Schulterblatt was being dismantled. Time was 22:40. I took a small rest on a bollard on Schulterblatt. My head was somewhat dizzy. I was taking the last sips from my beer, giving my all into the music, now a mixture of some house, reggae and electronic beats from various sources. Across me, at the occupied theatre hall were the usual Schanzenviertel punks and metalheads. Behind me were the Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, Greek, Turkish 'kneipe's lined up properly according to geographic positions. Kafe X was in ruins and who knew where Ibo was at that moment. My head was just telling me to 'go with the flow'.

I suddenly remember where I left the two posters I bought earlier during the day.

They were from some funny German movies with a super-hero woman character in one of them. I forgot them at the cheap call-shop by the ice-cream place up the road when I called H. 3 hours ago before going to Altona to meet with her. I quickly got up to my feet and walked into the shop. I said to myself:

"If the posters are there, I will celebrate this by calling D."

Lurching from the alcohol, I slowly walked into the shop. I did not know Schulterblatt street was getting ready for some action at that point.

I was right. The posters were where I left them, at Phone Booth 5, on the ground. I picked them up, and sat myself comfortably on the stool and had a 8-9 minute conversation with D. on the phone. I left the booth, paid for the call and slowlz left the building, now filled with a misty cloud of waterpipe smoke and smell. Outside had already turned into a post-hurricane atmosphere, water over the streets, an emergency breakout, police tankers rolling down Schulterblatt and police forces marching orderly into the junction I was easily at 15 minutes ago.

A total darkness settled into the immediate sky. Around 25 people were running at me, and my dizzy and happy head was just dragging my feet into the middle of the incidents. I could see a fire on the middle of the road and there were barricades set by the police. All 4 sides of the junction were now being loosely covered by the police. A tanker swept the streets beside me. Its plate number read HH 7499. A beer bottle broke with noise 5 meters away from me and its shattered glasses hit my shoes and my jeans. I was surprised at what I was seeing and how calmly I was walking into the core of it. At that moment I recalled some blank cartridges exploding on the streets before I went into the phone-shop. The police shouted through megaphones installed on the green tankers:

"Everyone on the Schulterblatt and Susannenstrasse streets. Please evacuate the road immediately, move onto the side pavement and leave the junction."

I saw some of the tankers and bunch of cops with cameras and flashlights on them taking pictures of the people and incidents. I was right at the junction when the hell broke loose. Some 7-8 people rushed into the police and they were immediately repelled and beaten. I was pushed aside gently by a police into the mouth of Juliusstrasse, at the West edge of the junction, where most of the rebels ran away into. Now this 4th edge of the junction was also surrounded by the police and this was actually the one where there were no cafes/restaurants. Everyone on the street were either residents or the core rebels of the incidents. I was standing among them, watching everything still with utmost serenity, only 15 meters away from the police strip.

The tankers were filling up water to spray onto people if needed to repel them. I was expecting the rebels to come back to the junction and throw flaming bottles at them, but nothing happened within the following 30 minutes. The cops shouted once again:

"Juliusstrasse is surrounded by the police and no pass through the junction is allowed until midnight. Please use the further western streets up the road to exit the area".

I was disappointed at the lack of activity by the rebels. Apparently, as S. would tell me the following day, this is how they could run away from the police (after only a instantenous attack) and carry on their activities throughout the city in different events and gatherings. Slowly, the civil war atmosphere vaned. My shock as I had left the phone-shop had already transformed into curiosity. I was mainly suprised at one thing throughout the process. The police had treated me very kindly, while I was acting super-cool and rather imitating as if I was a tourist unaware of all of this and had no political ideology or consciousness whatsoever. This made me feel somewhat sick about myself as well but gave me a lot to think about.

Remembering scenes from May Day activities in Istanbul, or all the stories we heard about the pre-1971 and pre-1980 military interventions, in which the political right and left would kill each other, supported by the police and gendarmerie forces for absolute nothing (in effect), I realised how 'civilised' and rather 'organised' these whole protestations came about. It was as if the state had also given the social right of destructive rebellion to its citizens and regulated it with conscious police forces and rolling cameras. This is what many of us back home clashed about. Some argued 'police should get some education', some argued 'the police is the enemy by nature' and will always be confronted, so, the more agressive and stupid they are, the more we have the right to confront them. And this is exactly where it gets confusing. Have all these movements been made for self-justification against a brutal state that knew no rights or were they means of 'reminding' the state of the rights it levied on its citizens, taking the 'state' for granted? It seemed like the softer, the social-democratic, the reformist tendency to me, the stance that both the police and the rebellions were taking. All in all, this was a civilised breakout. In England, people would have already realised the unnecessity in it. Despite the common belief, Germans are still much more sentimental. Maybe, this is why I feel more at home in this country that founded the Romantic movement.

Later at night:

I decided to walk back home around midnight but took a really long detour as I was disoriented because of all the incidents. It took me about an hour and some exhausted legs but gave me a lot of time to think about what had just happened.

I thought about people back home who has what they consider as clear political ideologies. Some of them have been fighting for them which I always respected and at some points of my life, felt guilty of not contributing enough to. However, I did have my times of rebellion. Rebelling against the school's dining-catering policies, rebelling against family on education issues, rebeling against friends, joining protestations and walks for familiar global causes; war on Iraq, NATO gatherings, gay and lesbian rights. Above all, I have long rebeled against myself. The more I could not express within a community, the more I suffered personally. When I came to think of it, this was the biggest difference here in Germany. People still lived a much more communal life than in England. And they lived a more productive one than the guys back in Turkey. After all, Germany was still trying to preserve some of its social, welfare-state policies and people, especially the young ones, had no intention to succumb into losing them. In England, however, a different mind was prevailing, maybe a more realist one. At the capital of Capital, people learned the ways of not spending efforts on such movements. Or rather they have been drained of their free time and economic means to do so. Back home, we had too much free time, or created it, and there was always a question of doubt in our own movements. A disparity among the rebels. Somehow, we believed too much in the rebellion and rebelled against ourselves and each other too much to come up with something useful against the 'common enemy' that we forgot to define too long ago.

Hamburg, noch einmal...

It has been almost two years since my last visit. As soon as we landed I felt the familiar cold again. That formal and mild cold that reflected from the coats of the mid-30's businesswomen or the cold the university student brought into Bus 39 in the evening's setting darkness after her gym workout in her jumpers. That cold at the platform of Ohlsdorf Station or the cold sound of slow escalators at the Lutterothstrasse U-Bahn exit. Escalators in the London Underground always run smoothly and are refurbished once they get a little old, but not here. The cold of the fugitive eyes in the carriage and on the heavy door handles that you have to pull aside to make your way out.

The cold immediately filled my lungs but did not make me feel sick, in fact, the contrary. It would be unfair, to summarise my feelings with cold here, as most of my experiences are warm and homely. I had a relatively warmer welcome from the Passport security. The more Schengen visas I have on my passport, the less they deal with me: Benefit of the unjustice for Rights of Travel. It did not feel like a lot has changed since my last visit. A lot has changed with me but not with this city. Young bikers on the side of the street passing by our bus, the Turkish bus driver helping out an elderly on where he has to leave the bus, evening lights on the shaking leaves of trees, empty beer bottles on the pavement and "übergang zu U2" at Schlump.

S. immediately recognised the change in my hair as H. opened their doors to welcome me once again. They both looked healthy despite H.'s own claims against it. We caught up since our last meeting from over a year ago in Istanbul, and updated each other with whatever was left to say outside our e-mail conversations. H. has been like an "aunt" for me ever since we met, and that's how I got attached with this city... The first time I met with F.A., or when I came down from Denmark to the coldest winter's day in 30 years of history, or spent a weekend with J., or with S.Y. and S.I. watching out for the ticket inspectors on our free rides, or when I met my family after a few months' separation, or when we drove from Berlin with A. to her first visit here. Each and every single memory just flashed back as I was gazing at the pictures on H.'s walls of her family and the other familar faces, including one photo I had taken, she framed of my own family.

After the previous night's long sleep, I had another good 11 hours of rest, pulling my weekly average from 4 hours to 6. Smells of nearby linden trees, sounds of the cheerful schoolkids playing, and the taste of "Wald Honig" fill the early afternoon. A warm shower, a stroll on the street and a ride down to the Hauptbahnhof and I will leave here briefly, to go on with the journey. It feels good to be back... and this time around, I am paying for my tickets on the U/S Bahn regardless of inspections. I guess I have more responsibilities now and there are other excitements other than watching out for the ticket inspectors. Maybe they will get also the escalators fixed with a little help from me... or maybe they should leave it the way it is, so I can feel once again that I missed this city.

Stasiland

I cannot recall when I developed a certain consciousness and interest in Germany. As far as my German classes in High School (that ran for 3 years) were concerned, I was not much interested in Freiburg being on the border of 3 neighbouring countries, or how I would get around in the country by memorising the traffic signs. University years have introduced many eventful stories that attached me to Germany.



Endless visits to Hamburg made this, what some recall a 'village', city very special for what it's worth with all its diversity. I've seen the World Cup 2006 Final here, stalked one of my favourite film makers (Fatih Akin) and had quite a chat while distracting him from his business meeting, seen the city covered under snow, smelt its spring-fever, heard legendary David Gilmour of Pink Floyd, been in and out of love in this city. I've had peaks of joy and despair, loneliness of a death roll, coldness of extreme grey, as well as heat of passionate love in and for Berlin which still remains as one of my top destinations. Had mitfahr rides across the country, troublesome hitch-hike from Stuttgart to München, 3 single-day visits to Köln, long train rides over Westphalia, a welcoming long weekend in Düsseldorf, driving on its Autobahns, out-of-necessity ride through Göttingen, been a true customer of Germanwings for a period, met dozens of Germans here and there across Europe, longed for Leipzig and Dresden.



Wim Wenders (der Himmel über Berlin, Alice in den Städten), Olivier Hirschbiegel (das Experiment, der Untergang) all helped enhance a deeper visual insight to what this troubled land incorporated. The troubles had been injected into my blood long ago in Istanbul when I saw The Believer. I have set out once to live my own Im Juli riding trains and hitch-hiking my way from Denmark through Germany, all the way to Istanbul not so long ago. On and off interest in architecture and especially Bauhaus, history courses I took relating to inter-war and Nazi regime eras meant I was already deeply affiliated with this country even before I knew it. And now, since my last visit to Berlin in February 2007, my prolonged return to the land of 'wurst' came recently with literature. Not only that I have decided grab another Hesse book (who had major impact on me especially with Demian and Steppenwolf) only to realise that I might have out-matured (pretty bold statement!) parts of what he has to offer; I have come across another one, from the other side of the wall that brought back memories intertwined with imagination: a book called Stasiland.

Australian lawyer and radio/television producer Anna Funder cleverly tells of the stories behind the Wall she has heard from witnesses during her visits to what was formerly East Germany in the mid-1990's. She was working in Potsdam in 1997 at the Australia Centre and paid visits to Leipzig, Dresden and Berlin to reveal secrets braided by a population with a cliché remark "more spies than spied ones", as to remind the Turkish readers of the Second Constitutional Era of the Ottoman Empire under the monarchy of Abdulhamid II. The first few chapters of Stasiland constructs the background of the author, her affiliation with the German language and curios follow-up on some stories to track down ex-"victims" of the Stasi (Ministiry of State Security; Ministerium für Staatssicherheit). Mainly due to German officials shying away from facing the "embarassment" of the existence of the Stasi, a theory suggested as one of the motivations to bring down the building of the former headquarters of DDR in Berlin, Funder finds few support in going through the sensitive cases of the Iron Curtain era. This is exemplified in a story of the opening chapters by Miriam Weber who struggles to arrange a funeral for her husband who was sensationally revealed 'dead' in prison. Weber fights her way around to find out the real cause behind her husband's death but her efforts end in disappointment. A run-away herself, who tried to cross the Berlin Wall on the New Year's Eve in 1968, Weber is one of the characters in Funder books that give us a hint of some of the dark sides of the Stasi.



As written in an earlier blog, I had come to know about Stasi in my first visit to Berlin in 2005, when some guy was putting up banners on a cardboard cursing Stasi and trying to create roots between the then's Chancellor Gerhard Schröder who was running for the elections, heading his part, the SPD. Now, whether the strongest and the most traditional Social Democrats of Europe had strong ties with the Stasi of the East is another argument, however amount of stories that will be uncovered from the pre-unification of Germany is something I am keeping a close eye on. Just over a year ago, Florian Henkel von Donnersmarck rightfully claimed an Oscar prize with das Leben der Anderen that had a very cool approach to a highly contested issue: censorship in East Germany, and Stasi's role in spying individuals' attempts to overcome the obstacles against 'reach for freedom of expression'. Now, I am a big sceptic of movies and literature that try to dagger a knife into the hearts of ex-communist regimes by ditching about what went wrong in East Germany, or the Soviet Bloc. After all I had found das Leben der Anderen to be much more cleverly done by, say, Goodbye Lenin and my initial impressions of Stasiland are along the same witty lines of Donnersmarck's work. Suffice to say, it is a recommended reading to get some grasp of what was laid hidden behind the Wall.

"Pinch of salt" edit: As I read on, I come across passages where the criticism against some bad aspects of Stasi are, on wider, directed against ideologies in what seems to be a vaguely mix-up's of (non-Marxist) Communism and "non-democratic" (as claimed by Funder) State Secret Agencies. Nevertheless, the narrative is very appealing. So don't forget to take your pinch of salt for what it's worth.

Hamburg'dan

bloknotumu karıştırıyorum, neredeyse boş sayfa kalmamış. bugün dışarı çıkacağımda yazacığımı da biliyordum. yoksa, artık el yazısı çok zorlayıcı geliyor. bloknotta bir sürü notlar... asla başlamadığım senaryo notları, daha önce yazılmış ufak günceler, zamanında not aldığım dersler/ödevler veya sinema kulübü için yapacaklar listesi. sonunda boş sayfayı buluyorum.

1.5 yıl önce fatih akın'la tanışmaya geldiğim ilk geziden beri 5. ziyaretim bu. bu yıl ise 4. danimarka'da exchange yaparken, hamburg (kopenhag'ı saymazsak) en yakın büyük kent aarhus'a. türkiye'den direkt olarak ucuza uçulabilen yegane yerlerden. pratik oluşu güzel oluşunun yanında bir artı. görmediğim az yeri kaldı buranın. altona, sternschanze ve st. pauli hala favorilerim. fakat bugün nedense hauptbahnhofun civarına yollanıyorum. son otostop yolculuğumda afgan asıllı fransız bayanın, "hamburg'da bir afgan kasetçisi" (1.8 milyon nüfuslu bir şehirde) arayıp da hakikaten bulduğu o mahalleler. kulağımda o müthiş karizmatik isimli grubun albümlerinden biri: meanwhile back in communist russia. daha önce çok geçtiğim sex shop ların, adana, urfa salonlarıyla birleşik olduğu cadde bu sefer daha alımlı ve canlı. akşam almanya'nın maçı olduğu için mi? hava yaz. ilk defa yazın buradayım. mart ayındaki ziyaretimde, geldiğim gün 30 yılın en büyük kar yağışı karşılamıştı beni; bu sefer ise son 30 yılın en sıcak günü. küreselleşmeyi kimliğimde de hissediyordum zaten, ama "küresel ısınma" ve "iklim dengesizlikleri"ni bu kadar yanımda taşıdığımı farketmemiştim.

ana caddeden bir ara sokağa dalarken, yarı apartman, yarı camii binayı ilk defa görüyorum. şükür,danimarkada tek bir minare bile dikkilmesine izin yok ya. buradakiler daha şanslı hissetmeliler kendilerini. etrafımda bir kez daha en çok konuşulan diller türkçe, afgan ve farsi diller. afrika dillerini belki almanca takip ediyor olabilir. bayraklarda alman üstünlüğü göze çarpıyor hemen. afrika asıllıların işlettiği bir internet cafe nin önünden geçerken, yüksek sesle eğlnen 12-15 adamın arasına dalıyorum. uzakatan korkutucu görümüştü değil mi? kulağımda kulaklıklarım ve küpelerimle özellikle de. gene de epey mütevazi bir görüntüm vardır diyebilirim ama, ve de epey bronzlaşmış bir tenim. zaten bu geçişte hissettiğim tek şey, yayılan mutlu enerji. az önceki sokaklardaki kahvehane önündeki belli belirsiz bulutlu kasvetten de daha güzel.

hemen ardından burnuma gelen güzel koku. kafamı kaldırır kaldırmaz farkediyorum ıhlamur ağaçlarını. istanbul'da doğup büyüdüğüm yer "ıhlamur yolu", berlin'de hayran olduğumuz yer "unter den linden" ama sanki bu terkedilmiş sokağın ismi; en çok hakettiği yere sahip: "lindenstrasse". aynı sokaklardan başka bir meydana doğru geri yürüyüş. adana, urfa, sex kino, lindenbazar, manavlar ve hauptbahnhof. burası hamburg'un göbeği. 5 dakika sonra isterseniz pahalı mağazalarıyla alster'in oraya. istanbul'a dönüş yakın, buraya bir daha yolum ne zaman düşer? hamburg'da yaşanır mı onu da bilmem ya; ama kesinlikle tecrübe edilmeli. burayı sevdiğime eminim.

..ve tanrı david gilmour'u yarattı..

ve biz de bundan payimizi aldik..

hamburg da siradan bir gundu. yok hayir canim, nasil da sirada bir gun olabilirdi ki. bir gun once yagmaya baslaya kar, hamburg un 1978den beri gormedigi derecede fazla bir kardi. bir suru insan sehre otobanlardan gelemzken (tam da zamaninda kamu calisanlari eylem yapmaktaydi ki (ki eylemlerinde de goruldugu kadariyla hakliydilar) bu hafta eylem sirasi yol temizliyicilerindeydi). biri daha vardi sehre gelmesi gereken, k binlerce bilet sahibini hayal kirikligina ugratmamak icin muhtemelen bir sekilde gelecekti. belki de bu yuzden ilkde bu kadar soguk bir cumartesi gunu olmasina ragmen cok fazla ingilizce konusan insan vardi gunduz hamburg sehrinde. bircoklari 78den beri gormedikleri bu karla birlikte muhtemelen o zamanlarda hayranliklarinin dorugunda olan belki kanli canli onu da o zamandir gormedikleri david gilmour'u bekliyorlardi 11 mart aksami `cch`da geceklesecek konser icin.

cch yerel saat ile 8e dogru tamamen dolmaya baslamisti. sabirsiz birkac seyirci ise simdiden konserin baslamasi icin ufak tefek alkislara baslayacaklardi ki, zaten gilmour da geri kalanlari fazla bekletmeye niyetli degildi. 15 dakikda belki gecmisti ki, sahneyi korkunc bir sis bulutuyla birlikte, "pink floyd mavisi" renkler kapladi bile. gilmour 4 tane akustik/yumusak sarki ile girerken arada hic konusmadi bile. konusturdugu sey her zamanki gibi gitariydi. arada alistigimiz sololarini yinelerken, basladigi parcalar tamamen maviydi. arada klavyenin (tabii hangi bir kalvyenin, en en buyuk olaninin) arkasinda kim vardi ise bu gece, o da guzel bir seyler tingirdatmayi ihmal etmedi. saykedelik ezgiler biraz daha agirlik kazanmaya baslarken gilmour 4uncu parcanin sonunda, ilk bolumun sonuna kadar son albumu on an island ile takilacagini soyledi. kimsenin de bundan fzla bir sikayeti yoktu zaten. bir parca sonra, seyiriler icerisinden gilmourun (6 marttaki gecmis) dogumgununu kutlayan birileri cikti. gilmour ise "60yasinda olmaninin inanilmaz" bir duygu oldugunu soyledikten hemen sonra almanca bir seyler soyleyerek seyirciyi epey bir eglendirdi (bir tek ben anlamadim sanirim almanca dahi bilmeme ragmen ay cok). ufak bir tanitim ve aradan simsiki bir hard rock: sanirim take a breath olan parca bu. suratimiza suratimiza patlayan flas ampuller ve sahnede 3 gitar ile (1i bas olmak kaydi ile) dimdik ayakta baslari hafif one egik 3 siki rock ci. sanki the wall konserinde yeri gogu inletiyorlar. aradan smile, ufak sohbet,iki parca daha ve ara.. ikinci yari da gilmourun da sarfettigi gibi "oldies"i beklicez. bakalim daha nelere tanik olacak simdili 50 dakikalik bir solen yasayan cch diyerekten "kisa ara"ya girdik.

almanalrin sigara ve kahve keyfi fazla uzun suruyor olmali ki kisa ara yaklasik 30 dakikayi bulduktan sonra, eskiler calinmaya basladi. sanki pulse seyrecektik ikinci devrede. shine on you girer girmez ilk devreyi de gayet icten seyreden 1000lerce "koltukta" misafirin eli agayi titremeye basladi. ve crazy diamond biter bitmez tanitilan ekip. gilmour a gore hepsi ayri bir efsane ama iclerinde biri daha vardi ki pek tabii kendisi (haberim bile yokmus ki) on an islan albumunun de yapimcilarindan biri olmakla birlikte bu konserde de gilmour u yalniz birakmamis. evet ilk devrede klavyenin arkasinda cilgin attigini gordugumuz, ve sahnedeki diger orta yasini almislara ragmen (gilmourun kafasinda da sac kalmadigi icin) bembeyaz saclari ile rick wright da cch i yerinden oynatiyordu bu gece.ve ikinci devre tamamen bir gilmour wright sovuna donusecekti. ayin karanlik yuzune gecen ikili ve grubu utanmasalar yazin watersin etrafta yapacagi gibi dark side of the moonu batan sona gecebilirlerdi. breathe ile birlikte herkes kendinden gecmisti bile. sarkinin sonuna dogru live 8teki gibi time in sonu ile bir baglanti olur mu diye beklerken sarki sona erdi. erdigi gibi de timein tinilari, gecenin tamaminda anfisini ve pedallarini elektro gitarlarinin son raddine kadar kullanan gilmourun biraz once attigi son riff lerin uzerine kaymaya basladi bile. biraz sonra gelecek high hopes ve dehset isik oyunlari ile birlikte etrafta 100lerce, koltuguna civilenmis,kafanizi cevirdiginizde muhtemelen size robot veya et yigini gibi bakacak bir "suru" vardi bile. ve sizin de bunun parcasi olmaktan baska yapabileceginiz bir sey yoktu. herkes adeta hipnotize olmustu.gilmour gene gitarini aglatirken, high hopes ile birlikte izleyenlerin de tum benlikleri agliyordu onunla birlikte. zaten ardindan oyle bir echoes geldi, oyle bir echoes geldi ki, kasi gozu yardi (afedersiniz kici basi dagitti). kadro sahneyi terk etmeye hazirlanirken arkalarinda biraktiklari ekolar (hakikat eko lar) ile birlikte ayaga firlayan seyirci, olacagini (ve gecenin muhtesem bir finale suruklenecegini) bildigi bis icin coktan alkisa tutulmust bile. onumuzdeki yaklasik 20 dakika da bir daha oturmayacaklardi.

bis de wish you were here ile acildi. gilmour arada birakti, seyirci eslik etti. ikinci parca icin "istekleriniz var mi" gibi bir sey soyledigi anda bile bagiran onlarca kisiye karsilik ufakca gulumseyerek coktan hazirlamis oldugu final icin orkestrasina donup isaretini verdi. belki ikinci solonun sonunda live 8teki konserdeki gibi kendinden gecip inlemediyse de her zamanki comfortably numb ziyafetini cektikten sonra kendinisinden duymaya cokca alistigimiz "thank you very much indeed, thank you; thank you and good night" ile koluna aldigi rick wright ile sahneyi terkettiler. butun isik oyunlarinin, dumanlarin,sislerin, perdelerin,amfilerin,gitarlarin ve seyircilerin oldugu gibi de, 10 marrta dusseldorfta baslayan 2006nin tam gunes tutulmasi 11 martta da hamburg da arasiyla, beklemesiyle tam 3 saat 15 dakika boyunca gozlendi.