budapest by belgrade

i had been told the neighborhood of kadikoy was an essential visit in istanbul. i asked the man working the hostel if there’s anything i should do there.

“you should not have a plan this go to kadikoy. just sometimes is better no plan. walk around.”

music to my ears my friend. a great afternoon spent.

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a hostel owner said when he opened his spot in sultanahmet in the early 90’s there were only a few of them around. not many tourists came then, but he did have some cool stories about caravans of hippies that used to meet there before driving to nepal every year. now sultanahmet is densely packed with tourist accommodations. he gave me a couple cups of cay as we chatted before i checked out. on a day committed to sightseeing touristy type stuff i drank maybe eight cups of cay. they are served in very small portions. you are meant to consume many tasty little cups.

“‘you drink cay all day.’
‘yes of course life is short.’”

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polis brigades — i just happened to be staying in the neighborhood of ferikoy when and where, according to the bbc, “50,000 police officers deployed to the city as authorities attempt(ed) to crack down on May Day protests…Public transport was shut down to stop people reaching Taksim Square, where demonstrations have been banned since 2013.”

in some sense people protest on may day every year in the name of labor rights, but this year the government is a little more on edge. mainly because president erdogan’s government arrested the mayor of istanbul on trumped up corruption charges. apparently corrupt assholes who have manipulated power for a quarter century don’t like it when popular mayors voice dissent and it happens to be dissent that the masses agree with. some 400 protestors were arrested.

all i wanted to do was get a bus to a ferry location so i could go to the princes islands. blockages on the streets made this difficult. my bag was checked to walk across one road. impossible to get a taxi. i just walked to the ferry but since that was downhill and not exactly short i was really hoping after the day trip the shenanigans would be in enough of the past that i could taxi back up it, but that was also not possible.

i feel quite often, in life and not just traveling, like the very confused old man i saw at the cordoned off kabatas bus stop. he had a bag of groceries. i watched him on and off for a couple minutes while he glanced around and then ahead again at the shut off access. he appeared stupefied. i imagine him leaving home with a story playing in his head about how he would get home from the river and the way he would get home from the river was a bus station that operated with incredible reliability. all the sudden standing, wondering why the world is not doing what he had thought it would. perplexed.

a good hike and pleasant company on the island. raki with a view.

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fuckin earthquakes. istanbul the second area, bangkok the first, i’m visiting after a pretty dramatic earthquake event. whistling past the graveyard. nobody died but it was big and a decent amount of people got hurt jumping out of buildings. these people are traumatized by earthquakes. in 1999 a quake killed 18,000 in northwest turkey. a real doozy in the southeast in 2023 claimed over 50,000 lives. i saw people during my visit sleeping in tents in parks, the most recent shakeup reminding them all too clearly that the plates of the earth under istanbul are locked. it’s a “powder keg”, as one professor put it. some day the building stress will burst.

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i hopped off a bus one day before my destination because i thought i might die if i didn’t get some bread i was hungry particularly for bread with some of the chunk of butter i had in my backpack for just such an occasion and without having a clue that i was close to something cool i turned a corner and stumbled across a massive, beautiful wall that’s part of the aqueduct of valens, a 4th century roman structure. and that is kind of wild, being from somewhere where nothing is old, to stumble upon such a thing in the middle of a city.

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there’s a passage in orhan pamuk’s red haired woman, that i can’t find because i no longer have the book, about seeing old men in istanbul passing their days on cafe patios. this is a signature feature of this part of the world to me, as little time as i have spent in it. i found the men in athens charming for it. on a morning walk many people are clearly in motion to get somewhere: tourists to a site, young people to work. fellas in their 60’s or more are just sitting on stools in their black jackets smoking smegs and having espresso. shooting the shit with their dudes. it’s 50 and sunny and breezy. why not. i join them and it’s nice.

istanbul

arrive in istanbul airport early morning get your bearings need to snag wifi to download mapsme for turkey forgot to tackle that one in sri lanka before takeoff the wifi here takes some hoops jump them get cash exchange figure out transport to hostel neighborhood get through passport control.

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part of this on the move/keeping the senses sharp has to do with handling what is often initial aversion. i arrived in istanbul the way i have in a handful of other cities: tired, a tad confused, feeling an outsider, accompanied by a little guy on my shoulder asking me why i’m doing this.

you could be home eating a cheeseburger. you could wake up in your own bed. you could be on a beach in thailand. you could be in the laotian mountains where your ten dollar bills lasted all day. etc.

you get over that hill and at sunset you find you aren’t thinking those thoughts — you haven’t been during this whole walk come to think of it. where did they go? the next morning the neighborhood is a little more yours, on account of the walk you took last night. a few more of the signs make sense. by lunch time your heart is where your feet are, and now you are traveling again. world/oyster.

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at aga hamami men have been getting scrubbed down by men here in non-gay fashion simce 1454. turkish bath style. azim with tender loving care gave life to my muscles sore from miles and miles of concrete walking.

after the bubble rub he told me to sit up and was pouring bowls of water over me. baptism-esque. he said “ready” and without even thinking of what the question might mean i said yes — in for a penny in for a pound — and he dumped a bowl of cold water down the front of my shorts, smiled at me, and said “good morning”.