I understand that a coup attempt is no trivial matter, but as with any problem, how one reacts is key.
Ezra Mannix
Writer | Communications Leader
Tag Archives: istanbul
The Clouds Cleared, and Pride Shined Through
Carrying their pride: walking toward Cihangir…and a TOMA (water cannon).
I was in a buoyant mood on Sunday afternoon; buoyed with patriotism from the news of the past week: marriage equality, Obamacare standing pat. I hadn’t felt that proud for America in a long time, and I was transferring that pride to my adopted second home, Turkey, looking forward to the 20,000-plus in attendance for what was billed the biggest Pride parade to ever take place in the Muslim world. It was a glorious, not-too-hot summer day in Istanbul. Breezes from the Black Sea, good vibes…. Then…
“Don’t go!” my wife messaged me as the Metrobus groaned and galloped over the Bosphorus Bridge.
They were shutting Pride down, the parade, Istiklal Caddesi, everything, she wrote. Flashing to the event page on Facebook, I found frantic “iyi misiniz, arkadaslar?” (“Are you ok, friends?”) posts and comments on the actions of the police, who were not allowing the protestors to go to the main promenade.
Tear gas, rubber bullets — memories of 24 months ago flashed in my mind.
Back to real world of self expression in Turkey.
Revelers move to Cihangir
Defiant, I went there anyway. I was too late for the water cannons and rubber bullets. Probably for the best.
Pride shines through the darkness
By the time I exited the metro station at Taksim, the cops had already formed a human chain around the Ataturk victory statue in Taksim Square and Istiklal Caddesi. The atmosphere was decidedly non-festive. People, however, were funneling down Siraselviler Caddesi, so I followed them, toward Cihangir, the indomitable bastion of progressive Istanbul, right?
What I found was not defeated protestors cursing the police, more like season veterans clearing their throats of tear gas residue — and then, smiling, defiant revelers.
What I found in the central Cihangir square in front of Firusaga Camii was smiling faces, signs saying “get used to us, we’re here!” “there ARE trans women!” Chanting. Singing. Jumping up and down.
…not before being sealed out of Taksim Square by a human police chain.
Walking down the avenues, I saw blond tourists from Europe, couples meandering the streets, students — including one from the conservative university where I work — music (yes, “It’s raining men!” played at one point, stoking memories of countless parties from my 20’s), great costumes, people from all walks of life.
While it all made me realize how far Turkey has to go before catching up to Europe and the U.S. when it comes to marriage equality, there was a victory of another sort in Istanbul on Sunday. You won’t read about it in the headlines, and rightfully so: canceling an approved parade for no discernible reason is wrong, and Al Jazeera, CNN, etc., were right to put it on their homepages.
But the less reported story, which made me smile, was that pride won.
In Turkey, it’s always 2 steps forward, 1.8 steps back with these sorts of things. But that tiny step kept Istanbul’s link to the biggest civil rights movement of our time alive and smiling.
Indomitable Cihangir, Indomitable Istanbul, Indomitable Pride.
Reveling
A Home for your Second Hand Clothes and Toys
Looks better than in a dumpster. Photo courtesy of topukluyazilar.com
Turkey doesn’t have a lot of tidy consignment shops or well-publicized clothing charities like Goodwill, but if you are looking to donate some clothes, especially if you live in the Kadıköy area, at least one place that will gladly take them.
Açik Gardırop (Open Wardrobe) is a small, unassuming place run by Kadıköy Belediye’s (municipality) cultural and social projects directorate. It’s located in Fikirtepe, a poor neighborhood perhaps best known to outsiders as being home to the Salı Pazarı (Tuesday Bazaar). They will take any unwanted, but GENTLY used women’s, men’s and children’s clothing.
Every 10 to 15 days the local muhtarlıks (offices of district councilmen) of Kadıköy organize pick ups of the clothes for poor families and clothes are also given the homeless, according to one shop representative.
You’ve passed by this building a million times if you live in Kadıköy
You are given a receipt (I’m not sure what I am going to do with mine, I don’t write these things off on my taxes here) and are on your way.
The easiest way to get there is by taxi (if you are carrying bundles of clothes). From the center of Kadıköy, it’s about 10 TL. If you are going by public transport, its conveniently located near the Uzunçayir Metrobus stop. After getting off, go down the stairs on the Fikirtepe side of the stop, turn right, and once you get through the underpass there is a path on the left which heads for Özbey Caddesi.
The address is 111 Özbey Caddesi. Drop off hours are The building can be seen from the highway. They close at 4:30 and are closed from 12 to 1 for lunch.
They also do pick ups, but when called, they said they’d come sometime in the next 10 days (but would call before they came).
The center does not accept books, but has a strong need for toys.
If you go on a Tuesday, you can pick up some cheap NEW clothes for future donation at the Salı Pazarı! Happy giving!
Love Being a Basket Case
Two cold Efes beers make the trip up about 75 feet.
One of the unfortunate truths about living in a 21st century metropolis is the disconnect we have from our natural environment, ergo, we buy our vegetables from a store, we exercise in planned parks or gyms, we travel by various modes of transportation that all involve high levels of engineering, or at least cement under our feet.
Istanbul is no exception. One nice thing about Istanbul, though, that makes me feel more like I’m living as a fairy tale serf on a European farm is the sepet – or basket, in English. We live on the 4th floor (or fifth floor by American measurement). When we need something from a street seller, or a corner-store owner, or a delivery guy on a motor scooter, we can simply lower a wicker basket connected to a rope, down the 75 feet or so, to the street level (careful, don’t get rope burn!).
The seller/vendor takes the money for the simit (Turkish bagel), poaca (flaky pastry) beer (beer), kebap, etc., that is in the basket, and replaces it with said product, sometimes with a shout of “afiyet olsun!” (bon appétit). Then, arm over arm, we lift the food or booze up back through our window.
It’s ironic that this measure of extreme convenience (or sometimes plain laziness) actually makes me feel old world. I think it has to do primarily for the hand-over-hand raising of the basket, which somehow reminds me of drawing water from a covered well, Jack and Jill style, to satiate my hunger or thirst. I feel as though I am working to draw some bounty from the earth, not unlike picking a carrot, or mining for some granite, even though I am lowering a basket bought at an Ikea-type store, down to a guy who puts whatever I am getting into a plastic bag. That thing I am buying may be made at some factory bakery or brewing conglomerate. But no matter.
Maybe this is why we have tatilsepeti.com (“vacation basket,” the owners of which I give English lessons to) and yemeksepeti.com (food basket) an online restaurant delivery site.
No wonder Turks have baskets on the brain.