hamams in istanbul

it has taken me almost no time at all to become a lover of hamams. it is i believe a tradition of bathing that every human being should at some point in their lives be indulge themselves in. i got aquainted with too late in life but still...it's never too late is it?

ankara's cebeci hamam was my first ever and i went with my aunt's friend. it was a huge deal for them. they took a huge bag full of their bathrobes, hair dryer, creams of all kinds, basically their entire bathroom. you don't have to take all that. i simply learned it was a big deal to go to the hamam. i know way too many people who are scared of going. i don't understand. i think it is the place where one can be reborn.

thankfully my mother used to exfoliate me when i was a kid. i remember. it is not easy to be exfoliated if your skin is not used to it. anyway it was that first hamam experience that won me over. i decided to pursue this love on my own. karacabey hamam in ankara became my place of frequent visits. i had friends who loved it as much as i did and i learned i could read the paper without it getting wet...

when i moved to istanbul besides the obvious priorities like finding a place to live, a job and a grocery store with 0% fat milk, i was actively searching for the perfect hamam- for myself. cemberlitas is on my "pretty good" list and haven't found another to top it. i have been to small ones, really old ones, stinky ones, forgotten ones, rip off ones and i still come back to cemberlitas in sultanahmet.

early in the morning before 0930 is the best time. the entire hamam to yourself. the dome, the marble platform, the mornng light through the small holes in the dome, the clear echo of the copper bowl against the marble and nobody else. the emptiness after being inside for a mere half hour and the peace over you once your bath is done. i don't want to shower after a bath like that. showering is so... incomplete.

and yes the women who exfoliate (called "natir")smell weird. it is like that EVERYWHERE. but that should not stop anyone from going. just do it.

old books

old books, yellowed pages, musty smell. i have been seeking old books and i had no idea i was until scott said the book "being there" that i had bought at a christmas sale for 3 liras was actually the first edition. it was also a library book. today and for the past few days i have been reading "uncle tom's cabin" that i had brought back from pakistan years ago to read again. printed in the early 80s. i was only 6 some years old when i got that book. i ordered online from betterworld books and got old library book versions.

i love it. my library is getting converted into wornout hardback editions. it's becoming exciting for me. and i have only just discovered this.

the other day jon my friend in cambridge texted me saying he found a book from 1893. wow. it's truly amazing when i find different things about myself i hadn't known about before. it could just be istanbul and the air that inspires one to push themselves just a little bit, in whichever direction. i can begin to see my fascination with shoe shiners for example...more about that when i trace its roots.

watching what goes on at the golden horn

ayla, my half-finnish half-turkish reporter friend is writing a travel guide on istanbul. imagine that. having writer friends is a bonus in anyone's life. a different perspective. a valuable exchange of observations. she was going to eyup. i invited myself.

we decided to go to eyup by ferry. one gets to see much from the water- canoe rentals at balat, rahmi koc museum at haskoy with the submarine at the dock, the bulgarian patriarch church which was pre- fabricated and pieces brought and put together in istanbul, a mass of blue steel, remnants of the old galata bridge dumped and now a venue for arts and crafts fairs...as we approached eyup an entire hill of grey and green- the reknowned eyup cemetery, home for many, with a cobbled stone pathway leading up to pierre loti cafe.

it's strange and freaky to say this but i have visited an awful lot of cemeteries in different regions. and each is very different from the other. the cemetery in london had marble gravestones with sculptures in the shape of pillows and faces. the jewish cemetery in vienna in the backyard of a retirement home was both sad and sarcastic at the same time. graves in edremit were simply forgotten. graveyards in gallipoli were majestic and humbling. and now eyup...

up on a hill graves facing the golden horn. a cobblestone path with a surprising number of people had a quality of a scene in venice- people outside a cafe, chairs all facing the water. it felt comfortable. there were gravestones with long epitaphs and ones that just said rest in peace; some had rose bushes, some had weeds, others had been fenced in; some had arrows pointing in the direction of a family grave. there were people posing in front of graves. there were ottoman graves with arabic epitaphs. there were lovers walking hand in hand after having had a cup of apple tea up in the cafe.

interesting place for pierre loti to hang out. with a menu of tea, coffee and ayvalik tost the cafe had no seating available. ayla and i sat up near the souvenir shop. of course i bought postcards with pierre loti looking like lawrence of arabia. after our replenishment break we came down the hill on the teleferik that brought us just yards away from the eyup mosque. i felt pretty good amidst the graves but just outside the mosque i felt really claustrophobic. it was obvious how important this place was with women praying outside near the graves of godly men and boys going for circumcision coming to pray for the safety of their ---. the inside of the mosque was well lit as in not overlit. just not enough ventilation.


i was tired by then. ayla and i decided to slowly head back. we walked through a bazaar selling knick knacks. we came across more ancient graves with cats sitting on them. they were up high watching people go by. eyup has a flavour of old, of the forgotten, and the desire to preserve all that. istanbul continues to woo my curiosty.

ozge'nin arkadasiyim

ozge farklidir. seni anlamak icin ozge saat kacta uyanirsin, kahvaltida ne yersin, oglen arasi ne yapmayi secersin, is anlasmalari yapmadan once kafandan gecenler nedir, dugun kiyafetini katlayacakmisin yoksa elinde mi tasiyacaksin sorar. kedisiyle tartisir sonra da barisir ve bunun hepsini yaparken gozlerinin icine bakar.

ozge pilates hocasi ayni zamanda. onunla birlikte pilates yaptim ve canim cikti. iyidir. hemen sonra da hamama gittik ve ayaklarimizi inceledik, iste seninki uzunmus benimki genis gibi konusmalar.

ozge'yi cok severim. kendin gibi ol felsefesi beni rahatlatir. ilk tanisitigimda ankara'da tribeca'da ozge'nin onunde macchiato, portakal suyu, cola ve bir tatli vardi. oturduktan sonra da alakasiz seyleri yedi icti. orda zaten ozge'yi kalbime aldim. ozge neyse oydu.

istanbul'a geldigimde elinden geleni yapti yanimda olmak icin. kendisi hafif bulanim gecirirken bana geliyordu ama aslinda benim o siralarda barindigim evlerde. owo'dayken, atolye calismalarinda, banka isimde hep bir araya geliriz. caniiim benim diye sikica sarilir ve uzun boyuyla kucaklamasinin icinde kaybolurum.

birlikte baya dolasmis olduk saka maka. ingiltere'de beraberdik. sonra bodrum'da. ankara'daki hikayelerimizi kapatip simdi istanbuldayiz. hikayelerimiz surekli yenileniyor.

kaybolmak

isler bu aralar yogun- raporlar, toplantilar ve iletisim bozukluklarla dolu. merkur. cok basit. merkur aramizda subat basina kadar. aksam eve donmek uzere otobusumu gordum ve dolmustu, sofor orta kapiyi acti ve bindim. teyzeler basamaklarda oturuyor, insanlar karanlik gibi, benim bindigim beykoz otobus yuzleri degil...neyse dedim kendine bak irem dedim.

kopruyu gectik. kavacik'a geldik. ve devam ettik. allah allah donmedi ilk saga. gunumu dusunuyorum, butun gun topuklu ayakkabi giymisim biraz agriyor. duz gittigini farkettim birden. 5 dakika durmadi. sordum nereye gidiyor bu otobus? cevabi bile hatirlamiyorum. beykoz demedi. ilk durak neresi sordum. nereye gideceksiniz. aaa sordugum soruya bak cevaba bak. tekrarladim. ilk durak neresi. cekmekoy dedi.

CEKMEKOY???

sakin ol dedi icim. gec cikmisim isten, yorgunum ve bu hafta isten eve gittigim tek gun. sakin ol diyorum kendime. bakiniyorum camdan, gidiyor otobus. sofor'e sorsam oooo taaa onde bende uzun otobusteyim ve dolu. sofore ulasmak imkansiz. kac dakika daha gidecek? 5 dakika. biliyorz buranin 5 dakikasini...
15 dakika gitti. karanlik her yer. isik yok. alt gecitten gectim karanlik. yol yapimi var. topuklu ayakkabi, yorgun bir beyin ve kendisine kizan irem. bak diyorum kendime bloguna yazarsin macerani, istanbul maceran hic bitmez, bak yagmur yagmiyor yoksa baya berbat olurdu, krizde nasil tepki veriyorsun bak diyorum. teselli terapisi. ise yaradi bence.

durakta bekledim. kavacik'a geri gidecegim. bi cocuk ayni otobuse binecekmis. oh be dedim tamam. ama yinede gozlerim disina cikmis, gece kusu gibi bakiniyorum.

otobus 20 dakika sonra geldi. bindim. kavacik'ta kendimi disariya attim. ohhh dolmusum orda deyip eve dogru yolu selamladim. yolda da vay be dedim. eve gidecegim diye cik, yalnis otobuse bin ve 2 saat sonra eve pacavra bir sekilde don.

cekmekoy'e harita da bulmaya calistim. harita disinda kaliyor. ne kadar ilginc degil mi? surekli guvenli hissi uyandirmak icin kendimizi nerde ait hissediyorsak ordayiz. ama aitlik nedir ki? ustumdeki giydigim kiyafet benim hangi ekonomik categoriye aitim, nasil bir tip oldugumu, hangi gruba ait oldugumu belirler.

halbuki hindistandayken aitlik cok farkli bir derecede. aitlik her yerde ne olursan ol. ozledim hindistan'i.

gunlugumde listeler

her gun yapamiyorum ama listelere bayilan biriyim. gun icinde yasananlarin listelesi, telefondaki iltifatlar (olabiliyor evet), patronumun girgir gectigi konular mesela turk erkekleri ve onlarla calismak ve cay degilde orta sekerli kahve icmesi, rapor yazarken elektrik ve enerji konusunda bilgi edinirken rusya aslinda enerji konusunda zorlandigini okumak, ozgeyle oglen yemeginde onun hayatindaki onemli konular neymis listesini yapmak ve sonra kendi hayatimdaki listeyi gozden gecirmek....oyoyoy. listeler.

dun aksam yoga dersine katildim. bora hocanin hariom yoga studyosunda, degisik bir yerde, farkli bir hocayla birlikte, bir ogrenci olmak cok hostu. bir pranayamadan baska nefese, bir asanadan baska asanaya. otobuste oturuyordum ev donusunde ve dedim bak bu asanayi farkli yapti ordan oraya farkli sekilde gecti, mumdan cikarken ben gaz cikarmadim, kafa durusta daha uzun kaldim, kargada dengem bozuldu listesini yaptim.

listeler. hayatimin ozeti.

yeni yil sembolu hayatimda yok

yeni yil heyecani diye bir duygum yok artik. bu yil bunu fark ettim. yeni yilim aslinda her yeni kararda hayatimda ciddi degisiklik oldugu zaman yilim baslamis oluyor. bazen dokumanlarda 2008 olarak imzaliyorum. ne ki zaman? gozumun tam kenarinda yeni cok hos bir cizgi farkettim. herhalde istanbul'un vucudumda biraktigi iz. iz olmayan yer tek col var. bir arkadasim cole gitti ve bosaldigini hissettmis. iste yeni yilda da oyle bir his olmali ki 31 aralik'ta oyle birsey olmasi hayatimdan cikmistir. benim yilim artik donem oldu. yeni donemlerim her 10 ayda bir olabiliyor. yasamima donemsel baktigim zaman cok daha akici ve butun gibi geliyor.
yeni donemim kasim'da basladi. birseyler oturuyor, tercihler saglamlasiyor ve arada esnek olmaya calisyorum. hadi bakalim.