Funeral

Wilbur and his chief carer, Hilary

Last Sunday I went to a funeral for a street cat called Wilbur. Actually, I didn't just attend I also took on the role of grave-digger, body arranger, flower arranger and mourner. There were three of us at the funeral ( plus Wilbur) as well as an endless array of other cats who rather excitedly thought we were digging them an enormous toilet hole. 

Wilbur had been a beautiful ginger boy who lived on the streets of Cihangir with permanently dislodged hips. He must have been in a car accident at some point but he was always joyful and loved his cheese. His death was sad but really he has been one of the lucky, loved ones. 

My beautiful lost boy Simit

I feel his funeral wasn't really just for him but for all the other street babies who lived such hard lives and struggle through the heat and the cold without a real home. In particular, I feel this funeral was also for my darling Simit who I learned on Christmas Day had also gone. O how I had loved him. The local emlak guy had rather helpfully suggested that poor Simit had died of a broken heart after I had gone to Australia.  Terrible. I was devastated to learn he had gone but I have to say the bitter cold of last week makes me glad he had not had to endure it with his terribly thin bones and his gorgeous fat heart. I wish I could have given Simit a burial like Wilbur.

Immediately after the funeral a tiny kitten with a terrible eye infection ran past and I grabbed it to take it to the vet. Poor thing bit my finger until it bled and then died later. Now I have to go through a course of rabies needles at the Government hospital which I have to say is an extremely grim place. I am not the least bit concerned that I have caught rabies. I am sure the kitten was fine but Turks are very afraid of such things. To be honest I am more worried about catching something else at the hospital every time I am there.  ( I have to have 5 injections!!!) The amusing thing is while I was waiting for my first injection I saw about three cats running through the hospital rooms - probably on their way to bite patients - ha ha!! The hospital really was  a mass of people and gurneys and dirt to be honest. What amazed me is that somehow, eventually, i was able to locate the exact room i had to go to in order to have my needles. It made me feel proud in an odd sort of way of my intrepid nature and my ability to navigate things all on my own.

Rest in peace, Wilbur.

Rest in peace, my darling Simit.
  

Snow Daze

Right now my parents are sweltering in Brisbane humidity and Three-paw and I are freezing our little toes off here in Istanbul. The world is indeed a topsy-turvy, ridiculous place.

The Pikap ( on another night recently) but it
 gives you a sense of its fine ambiance!

I, of course on a purely personal level, am delighted with the snow. When I used to live in Switzerland snow was of course exciting but it didn't really affect you. It just meant snot hardened in your nose that bit quicker. But in Istanbul -  glorious, mad Istanbul -  snow days mean school closures and school closures mean business closures and this means no classes....joy of joys. Last night  some of the teachers and I had one of those delicious impromptu pub night at the Pikap ( a local pub in my new area) where we played Taboo and drank raki and ate lots of cheese. It reminded me of the snow day we had last year which ended up in much the same way.

Except even better this year, the next day was declared a snow day as well!!

My neighbourhood

Of course snow days are not good for everyone in this city. Not good for street cats and street dogs and especially for the poor Syrian families huddled on cardboard sheets. In comparison to last year, I have seen a lot less families on the streets which means the Government must be doing something, somewhere...but it is still truly awful to see young children and their parents begging for money, food, shelter. With the help of the wise woman I have been at least been able to dole out blankets, food, shoes etc on an ad-hoc basis although sometimes it feels like so little, it feels like nothing at all. But I think it is important to approach it as making a difference in someone's moment, at least helping them along to the next point. Today, for example, I gave a little girl a brand new jacket. Blue with owls on it and a neon pink inlay. She was so excited when she saw it she ripped off her threadbare little jumper, threw it in the snow and stretched out her arms to me as if to say ' dress me.' She felt so proud in her new jacket and it gave my heart a mixed feeling of blessing and despair. I do believe that little children need to be given colourful things sometimes. Things with cute animals on them, new things that they can hold and say this is mine and I am a child.
I don't think though by giving her this jacket today that it made me anymore special than anyone else. Some people ( particularly on facebook)  have called me an angel and it kind of embarrasses me. I am not an angel. I don't do angelic things. When I give that girl a jacket I just do what so many others are doing every minute of every day and to be honest I wouldn't even write about it here except that I wanted to highlight the importance of giving colour and light to the vulnerable young.

Hopefully for that small moment, giving them a glimpse of childhood. Something many of us in the West take for granted as a right.

Fez Food

This is not Fez Food but a picture of my favourite restaurant
 in old town Damascus, taken back in 2009.

So I decided to start 2015 by going to the only Syrian restaurant I know  in Istanbul. It is over in an area called Yusufpasa which is in the more conservative quarter of Fatih. Generally, when I tell my students I am going over that way their first response is 'Why?' followed by 'Be careful.' I suspect their response is a combination of prejudice, exaggeration and a little bit of truth. Anyway this is the first time I have been there on my own and I have to confess it did have a different vibe to the times I have been with company. Not sinister exactly but I felt watched and I was definitely approached much more than I have been in the past. Happily my restaurant (Fez Food) was open for business and, as I have to come expect from all Syrians, the staff were extremely kind and welcoming. I ordered my supremely favourite dish Fattoush and as it was being prepared a portly Syrian chef came out with a steaming plate of chicken schwarma, bread and yoghurt.
'For you,' he said. 'Free.'
I spoke to him with my limited Arabic and found out he was from Aleppo.
'Aleppo,' he said. ' Big problem.'
I told him I had visited his beautiful city in the past and he put his hand to his chest as if to say thank you.
Suffice to say my dinner was lovely and as I left they all waved from the kitchen, confirming what I already know, that the Syrians are by far the nicest people I have ever met.

May 2015 please bring them the peace they so richly deserve.

Winging it

Today I am going to begin with the end.   On a ferry from Kadiköy back to Europe, at dusk, when the sky was simmering with sea gulls and low-slung clouds.  The air was icy, meaning that most Turks were sitting in one of the lovely retro-wooden cabins below ( Turks do not do cold!) so I took the opportunity to sit of the roof deck above. There were only a few of us seasoned souls up there: a man in a black overcoat and another in what looked like a santa-inspired pullover replete with white hood.

Anyway the santa man suddenly started to chuckle as the boat pulled out of Kadiköy. I may have even heard a little wheeeeee as we went and then out of his bag he pulled a loaf of bread which he began to throw to the birds with such gleeful abandon, it was like he was a bandmaster performing an encore at the proms. Soon the other man in the black overcoat came over to join him.  Laughing and throwing his arms to the sky before quickly racing below deck to buy even more bread so they could conduct this mad orchestra of birds all the way back home to Europe. Soon I was laughing and wheeing  with them too. It was one of the most infectiously joyful experiences I have ever had!

You know when a day ends like this whatever came before doesn't matter so much.

Festive-Siz

Now I have passed the festive season before in some fairly un-Christmassy places - China at the Shaolin Temple with hundreds of kids karate-ing in formation, Morocco where Damien endured the worst bout of food-poisoning from the unkindest clown in Fez,  even Egypt and a poor Egyptian kid being made to dress up as Santa and glide down the Nile. But in the end somehow it was still always Christmas. Unfamiliar and yet still sweet. I remember carrying a small Christmas tree around China for a few days so we could set it up in out unheated rooms, drink cups of noodle soup round it and wrap gifts in toilet paper.

Turkey, I suspect is going to be another one of these occasions except I honestly cannot feel anything in my heart at all. It is  like a giant sheet of grey sellophane has been wrapped around the city, muting the lights and the trees and even the oddly be-jewelled reindeer I see decorating the streets. A strange sort of feeling but survivable of course.

Wedding Night

Today is Mevlana's  (Rumi's) wedding night. It marks the day he died and was reunited with his Beloved, The Divine.  I wish I could be like him. Whirling, unencumbered, so my hands touch the stars and my feet feel no weight.

Today I believe I am the very opposite. My feet feel heavy and my hands can only clutch my face.

I love Rumi though.

It is hard to choose which of his poems I like best.

“I will soothe you and heal you,

I will bring you roses.
I too have been covered with thorns.” 
― Rumi

“Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.” 
― Rumi

“I know you're tired but come, this is the way.” 
― Rumi

“Every object, every being, is a jar full of delight.” 
― Rumi

Bliss!!!

Yeni Ev (New Home)

Last week I had a mail from someone who expressed surprise I was in Istanbul because my blog is currently in the far reaches of the Australian outback. Fair point. So while I am determined to finish my Longreach odyssey because it was such a great trip to take with my parents  I suppose I should actually write something in real time just for the sake of records – like if I disappear or something!  Yes. I am back in Istanbul. I have a lovely new home which I really like and Three Paw has also given it her seal of approval. I found her a place with a terrace so she could enjoy the outside air but so far she has shown no interest in going outside. In fact when I invited her out onto the terrace the other day she gave me a cross-eyed look that said something like..Mama, really do I have to... I be bed cat now! And true to her word she much prefers to pass her days lounging on the numerous beds and couches dotted around the apartment or hanging by the kitchen bin  - some old street habits die hard! I am sure The Pirate will enjoy it too although I am hoping to give Three-Paw a little more of a holiday before that happens because my little black fiend is really quite awful to her and it hurts my heart sometimes to watch her try and 'play' with my dowager empress laydee.

    Both my flatmates are teachers and drummers .  I wonder if I should take up ménage a trois ( by that I mean the triangle) so I can join in.  I hadn't really wanted to share I must confess. I wanted my own place but I really couldn't ask for two easier buddies to share air with so I am quite content. The neighborhood is also very interesting - full of pastry shops, luminescent fruit stalls and moustachey men eating borek.  And I keep on running into people I know so it feels more like a community or an episode from Cheers. 

***

I think that is all the good news I have to impart. On a much less happy note my Christmas Day plans have been scuppered at the last minute. I was really looking forward to the day and everything had been planned down to the movies, the stuffing and the afternoon constitutional walk but sadly it is no longer to be. It is difficult to re-calibrate my brain into making a new Christmas plan but if all else fails I can swap fish-shaped gifts with Three-paw under a bin somewhere .

All aboard the rooster

I forgot to mention the night of bush tucker and ballads we had immediately after the boat cruise. I can't quite think why I forgot to mention it because it was certainly very memorable and it was great to see my mum have a giggle. It was run by the company I mentioned in the previous post Kinnon & Co. They are actually farmers first and foremost but recent droughts have forced them to think of other supplementary income so they do not lose their land.  As they so wittily explained they had seen all these grey nomads ( retired folk) constantly passing through town and thought they might be easier to milk than their cows during the dry times.  Ha ! I think they are wonderful. Their humour is irreverent and a tad un-PC a times but they are hardworking, sincere folk who genuinely try to give us city slickers a taste of the outback and the heritage that perhaps we have never really understood. Mum was especially taken by the rooster carriage which I assure you  ( despite how it looks) did not cause the chicken any discomfort whatsoever. Actually it was gorgeously happy bird who liked nothing more than wandering round, scrounging for a pat or a cuddle.