Simit

This morning I got up, before the sun had fully put her dentures in, and went down to The Boss (Bosphorus). I tiptoed past Simit (my latest street cat friend) but he has an extra-sensory radar when I am about so he woke up immediately and gave me a morning chirrup. Simit sleeps outside a cafe across the road from me which is run by a lovely Uzbek man called Ozman. For a long time Simit was looked after by another cafe owner ( she called him Mustafa) but then she closed shop and he was left behind. I started feeding him and giving him cuddles because he is old and thin and has a bad leg. Then Ozman came ( he calls him Number 19) and we discovered we were both feeding and cuddling Simit. I was so relieved as I really can't fully home another furry friend right now but I am quite happy to share love/ food duties with my neighbours.  Actually I think my main responsibility is the love. Whenever I sit at the cafe/ walk down the street, Simit comes bounding over and nestles on my lap. Sometimes Ozman brings him food but he does not budge. "Don't worry," Ozman says. " When you are around he has only eyes for you. When you go home he will eat."

Wedded Bliss -Ins'allah

Two very fine people I know got married in Istanbul last weekend and I had the fortune of being able to watch them to do it. The groom was English but the bride was Turkish so I got to have a quasi-glimpse into the mysteries of Turkish weddings.

So far I can confidently say it involves:

1.  Cok  (a lot of ) clapping and whooping which I confess I wholeheartedly dedicated myself to. I may even have taken the title of Last-to-Stop although I can't be sure because of observation  2 ( see below). I found the ceremony much less solemn than our Western efforts but this is not to say that they were no less serious or earnest about the commitment. There was just a sort of an exuberance to the whole thing that was very infectious. That said, a Turkish student of mine told me with some relish the other week that she was attending a circumcision and she seemed to be intimating ( by the way she danced in her chair and held a glass to her lips) that this too many involve a lot of clapping and whooping so it may just be a Turkish ceremonial thing. Mind you I am fairly sure the Kücük Prens ( little prince) may be a little light on claps on this particular occasion.
   
2. During the ceremony traditional (and or other ) music must be played at a decibel level so high it  might actually reach Mars (or break the odd hymen as one of my fellow attendees duly noted...bad bad bad)
   
3.  Verbosity is not to be expected as not an awful lot is said apart from evet ( yes!)
   
   These  observations seemed reasonably consistent across the board too as I was able to witness three weddings since my  friend's was sandwiched between two others.

After the wedding some of us went out for drinks before joining the couple at a Cuban bar for some cocktails and salsa moves. Suffice to say I was tucked up in my bed by 8pm with a minging headache of my own creation :-) 

It was a good afternoon.

come on mama

Three-Paw pointed out to me the other day that I am simply not writing enough. In fact ' enough' is probably far too generous a description,  I think ' at all' is far more accurate.
" Come on, mama," she said. " You writing must -  so money be can fix my teeth." ( I imagine Three-Paw has a slightly Yoda-ish way of speaking English. Of course her Turkish is perfect.) She is right too. I am not writing. I am not writing my stories, my novel, my blog in fact I am barely reading. I am writing reports though and to-do lists. Arrgh. 

chattin with m'lady

Every Monday and Wednesday  I have to go to Ortaköy in the late afternoon. Recently the scaffolding has been taken away from the mosque nearby so the seaside square is even more adorable than before. I like sitting in this square because it feels as if the Bosphorus is sitting with me. Like an old friend. When the big ships go by we gossip about their cargo, the captain's drinking habits, how many mermaids they have seen in the Aegean. I really feel like the sea and I are in cahoots and it suddenly makes the rest of the city seem very far away...even though I can hear the sirens on the nearby streets.
Istanbul is a magnificent, sometimes maleficent, city but the Bosphorus is surely one of the loveliest ( and undoubtedly wiliest) ladies I have ever had the pleasure to know.

birthday

Today was my birthday. I woke early, worried about Three-paw's future, read messages from the people I love most in the world, worked, got badly stuck in Istanbul traffic and returned home to a wondrous welcoming turd from the triple-p which she had thoughtfully deposited in the litter tray. Not bad by birthday standards..certainly better than others.

I have an uneasy relationship with my birthday for reasons that will always  and ever remain within me. But I can say  it definitely isn't age related. 

I believe in the Italian language approach to birthdays which refers to how many years you have instead of how old you are. In a world like the one we live in - each year you have is a blessing even if it challenges you! 

Sad day

What a terrible day for Turkey...poor poor miners...poor poor families. I feel such sorrow for my current homeland today. 

Noice

Not a bad spot for some pizza and wine on a Friday night.

sluggish decisions

At the pace of a mighty inch worm, I am beginning to gather the courage to accept that moving on from Istanbul might be good for me. It is a difficult decision for me. I don't want to move. I don't want to start again...yet again. I am tired of starting...
Fortunately The Pirate is much more pro-active than me and has found a suitable carrier case for herself.

She has also offered to help me pack by going through my cupboards and drawers.

Where we might go, when we eventually go, I am not sure. Forse Italia? Like I said I am making this decision at the pace of a slug ( the types of which The Pirate likes to capture and lay on my bed as potential crew mates for our future big voyage.)

Three-Paw of course prefers to observe from a perch ( or more often these days - the middle of my bed.) Obviously any move would have to be made with her consultation and may involve her getting passported.  We will see.