here i am in canada missing istanbul and my cafe.  soooo, to continue on with the nostalgia, here are some photos from the second cafe.

this is me in the kitchen! this was from a thanksgiving dinner

molly’s cafe on camekan sokak

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

time to make the photos bigger

the comfy back room

my friend stefan took this photo from the other back room

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the kitties were in an open cabinet and it was like watching live tv

cute!

not a kitty. this was for kurban bayram. they were taking care of it up the street until it would be picked up

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the following photos are of some of the customers in  molly’s cafe no. 2.  are you here?

bob beers made helva for me. it was really yummy

charlie brought his mom him when she visited. a lot of young customers brought their parents in

these young people were all deaf. it was so interesting to meet them and hear about where they had been and how they had travelled.

the most wonderful customer– my daughter meadow

this guy came for a couple of years. he would order tea or a beer and read

taariq was one of the teachers when i was the director of a school. he now writes for a newspaper in his native south africa

tim was actually the friend of another canadian and stayed upstairs from the cafe. he played music in both cafes when he was in town

stefania was an old friend from when we taught at koc university. i visited her in italy and she visited me in my cafe

done! cem went on to do a masters in germany. it was so great to see these young people grow

triston was a singer/dancer from dallas and quite entertaining all the time

a zimmerman came by and i took this of his bags. talk about travelling light!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

of course there were lots of events at molly’s cafe.  here are photos of some of them. first there are some of the opening party.

dancing at the opening party with andrew

my sister peg and jimmy

my sister’s daughter in law stella hoofin’ it with andrew

the cake from my birthday

with my friend levent

other special events also took place

cihat’s wood ornaments sale

the jewellery show

easter brunch for the germans

the pawi thansksgiving

lee’s birthday– koreans eating lasagna!

zofia’s birthday

trici venola’s wonderful drawings of istanbul decorated the back room

joao’s interesting double exposure photos of european cafes

shirley verrette had an opening of her paintings at my cafe

of course there was music!

african music! from senegal and nigeria. the neighbours loved it

asena akan sang jazz classics

ruya and gokhan, jazz and turkish and kurdish classics

ben weeks, an english teacher, played sinatra and other way oldies for his friends

i am very proud that bilal karaman played at molly’s cafe. his career is now really going, as he is playing with some greats. his playing is great!

bob beers and souzana played traditional turkish and greek music. souzana is an american who lives in greece and bob lives in istanbul

cam neufeld played a few times. he is a fiddler from alberta and came to learn makam from the roma. he placed a board at his feet and would sort of do a seated jig as he played.

one night we had cuban music, which was muy bueno

the cyclowns played when they were back in town.

darius and oshan from the turbans also played their rousing music a few times.

djoumboush played a fw times. nicholas was the main mover for them.

donovan mixon was another jazz guitarist who played all of molly’s cafes

georg (accordion) and natalia mann (harp) and friends played for us

grace was an american exchange student who came from a grassroots music family. she had an amazing voice

people in istanbul know inca sol from the street. these ecuadorians played their own quechua music and were very interesting to talk to. my spanish is not very good, but one of them spoke french, so we got along.

karl doblhammer, from austria, played oldies in german. he was very entertaining, strolling through the cafe as he played and sang

lois deloatch had a wonderful throaty voice for jazz and gospel. she was visiting her brother, a newscaster in istanbul, so we all benefited

loxandra, from greece, took up a lot of room in my small cafe, but it made their music more intimate and more fun, like having them in your livingroom

canadians martin, tim, and friends played blues

natalia mann brought this big harp to play and then when she came to pick it up played a little more for us. she even played a little maori music

rafael and chrisine, formerly of the cyclowns, came to town and played swing for us.

we had sicilian folk music! it was great, not so different from some of the turkish traditional music

here we have celal el deniz, one of our galata neighbours, singing, serdar pazarcioglu, a fabulour violinist, and thanos doing some meyhane greek songs

and now on to word music– poetry readings and book talks at molly’s cafe

julie doxsee

lia mccoskey

linden horvath, in from berlin

mel kenne

niels hav from denmark, along with a whole lot of danish students and some of his friends, including one from greenland

richard and julia tillinghast, father and daughter poets

john ash and mel kenne

adelaide blum

OK now I am strolling through memory lane.  here i will post some photos from my first cafe.  some of you may remember it and perhaps your photo will be here.

this is what it looked like before opening.

freshly painted– by me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

in process

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

open for business

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

here are some photos of events.

first party– birthday twins jimmy and molly

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

carter’s birthday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

goodbye party for franco

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

duff reading

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

julie doxsee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

jeff kahrs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ed foster

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mel kenne

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

john ash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and of course music!

cyclown circus played often while they were in town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

nicholas and agnes played turkish traditional ottoman music

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

nicholas and friends

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

oscar was a music lover and everyone loved oscar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and here are some photos of customers.

this was actually one of my landlords wearing my coat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

with good friends cevdet and carter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

photographer friend metin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ulas and cevdet

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

bruce and deniz

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

canadian greg and moroccan mostafa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a writer whose name escapes me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

kelly and oscar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

our dear friend john

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

jonas, the first zimmerman i ever met. i asked if he was a musician!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

is it a bird or is it a man?!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

my good friend stefan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

these people were staying nearby and became regulars while they were here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

my best friend nancy, visiting from oregon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and of course i must end with a few photos of dear oscar

 

baby oscar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

his favourite place to sleep

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

my all time favourite photo of oscar and bunny

 

 

I have had lots of time to think about selling the past four years of my life and to contemplate what it has meant for me and for others.

Molly’s Cafe had three locations, all on Camekan Sokak: the first, opened in Sept 2008, was beside the mosque, a location that had been empty for four years. At the time, I lived across the street from it. My cafe was in that location for a little over a year. In 2009 I moved Molly’s Cafe across the street to what had been called ‘Timarhane’, which Turks found funny, because it was a euphemism for crazy house. The people who made it really wanted a ‘relaxation place’, which is what it really means. However, it closed very quickly. Molly’s Cafe occupied it for about a year and a half. Finally, in June 2011, the cafe moved to what had been a nasty dirty place for making plexiglass and neon signs. It was my cafe for a little over a year. In total, Molly’s Cafe existed with Molly for almost 4 years.

 

molly in the kitchen

First of all, I am very proud of what I have done with Molly’s Café. Its niche was offering non Turkish homemade food to those who were homesick and to those who were sick of kebabs all the time. For vegetarians it was an opportunity for them to eat something that was really vegetarian, as many Turks think that if there are not chunks of meat floating around in it, it is vegetarian. For vegans there were some options too. Mostly people were happy to have something familiar to choose from. It wasn’t fancy, but it filled one’s belly at a reasonable price.

 

back salon in the 3rd cafe

The comfortable atmosphere was also something that attracted many regular customers. The several sofas and several armchairs invited conversation, reading, or cuddling in the back corner with a sweetheart (with some checking in by me). People came to write, to work, to visit. Tourists asked many questions– one being where is a non touristy place to go. For that I sent them to Pierre Loti, but mostly the places tourists visit are tourist places for a reason– why else have people been visiting Aya Sofia for 1500 years? I could send them to the concrete suburbs, where they can see how people live and work– Ikitelli, Sirinevler, whatever. Tourists don’t go there for a reason. A few people even asked where the Galata Tower was! In the third cafe, many people (not only tourists) asked if there was a hammam there. A lot asked where to find a good hammam. Often once people sat down for a while, they got comfortable and stayed for quite a while. Occasionally someone would fall asleep.

 

jerome rothenberg

Since Molly’s Café has been hosting poetry readings for the past four years, it has become known as a place that welcomes readings. Several people emailed me asking to read in the café, and in fact some famous writers read their work there, including Jerome Rothenberg, Bill Berkson, and well known locals Mel Kenne and John Ash. Book talks were also very interesting, with Barbara Nadel’s mystery followers and particularly Hugh Pope’s perspectives on past and current events. One local poet told me that they used to have readings in a tiny place around the corner (now no longer there), which held about 6 people, so if they had a full house, they were ecstatic. At Molly’s Café there were usually 20 to 30 people who came to listen to their peers, as well as to read at group readings.

 

last christmas dinner

The special dinners were great. The greatest thing for me was that they were cooked by someone else! Except for Thanksgiving and Christmas, which were my job– the whole non family dinner for 30 or 40 people. The special dinners included Sri Lankan curry, Chinese, Iranian, Greek, Brazilian, Russian, Uzbek, and American, among others. Since curry is now a British staple, those dinners were well attended by Brits especially. Everyone enjoyed the taste of something different and usually had interesting conversations with new or old friends.

 

a couple of zimmerman customers

The interaction among people who came to the cafe was very interesting. A young Turkish-British man met an Austrian girl in the café a few months back and now they are dating. People got into conversations with each other easily. A Canadian man got into a conversation with a Moroccan friend of mine and it turned out they had common friends there. I had some very interesting conversations with people who wandered in. I was always very glad when I could correct some misperceptions (among them the belief that all Turkish fathers make their wives and daughters wear head scarves) about Turkey and Turks. One man proposed to his sweetheart in my first cafe. In the same cafe a young imam (!) broke up with the woman he was dating, a blonde who did not wear a headscarf.

 

There were a variety of interviews in my cafe. Some were with me, of course, but others included a young man from Iceland interviewing a young Turkish actress. There was a rather unsuccessful interview with John Ash and a much more successful one with Mel Kenne. I was interviewed for a TRT special on food and by some obscure program about the young people who had been kicked out of the square.

 

My cafe was written up in big and small ways in many places, including Timeout Istanbul, Marie Claire, Harpers, and Today’s Zaman. It was even in the Chinese version of Travel and Leisure magazine and a spa magazine in Bali.

 

I had a high learning curve doing the cafe. I had to learn how to manage the money in and out, which included finding suppliers and shopping at Tahtakale, near the Spice Bazaar. I also literally hauled groceries almost every day from the supermarket, bakkal, or manav. I kept a tally of what I bought every day and what I sold, so at the end of the month I could see if I made any money or not. I sure didn’t get rich but at least I knew where the money went and where it came from. However, still I have to deal with the final bureaucratic odds and ends of my company.

 

One interesting question that prospective buyers asked is if I could pay the rent. Duh! If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have still been there. The rent was high, but the location is great.

 

And oh those prospective buyers! The most unrealistic, imho, were the Turkish men who did not like the café the way it was and who wanted to gut it and start from scratch. Most of these wanted to move the kitchen into the back salon, in spite of the fact that the water is on the end of the café where the current kitchen and bathrooms are. The back salon is lower, which is fine for getting water there, but to get it to where it exits the building, they would have to dig pretty deep. And of course they wanted completely new furniture. I was talking to a man who owns a restaurant in another part of Istanbul and his jaw dropped when I told him that I had opened my original café with an investment of 10,000 lira. I could see him doing the math in his head. I am sure he paid out at least 100,000, but then his place is quite different. I know how to make do with what I have and as I have written before, many of my friends have been very generous in giving me furniture and kitchen things. Turks generally do not like second hand things and if it is not new and modern it is not ‘nice’, so especially the men have problems understanding my ‘concept’.

 

Going through the selling process has been kind of like dating. Is this the one? Will this one accept me/my café? Will this person pay me enough? I have had some insultingly low offers and I have had men who were shown the café by a realtor and then came on their own, trying to get around him. In this case the realtor was a very nice young man, and it annoyed me that these guys were so duplicitous– and made me see how they would try to screw me over too. One guy told me getting a permit (a whole other topic!) would be really difficult and that he would have to spend 100,000 lira, so he made me an offer even lower than his last low offer. It’s not my problem if he is so stupid to pay that much money. I want what I want, as this is my returning to Canada money. I changed this place from a nasty dirty sign shop into a charming café that people come to, basically putting it on the map (thanks google), so I wanted money for that.

 

Did I get it? Not enough, but the time came and I liked the guy better than the other ones. He is willing to keep the café as is for a few months, until he sorts out the permit. Already he is making changes and soon he will begin renovating. But Molly’s Café is not the same without Molly!

 

last day in the cafe, on the way out

Meanwhile, I am sorting out my own head. I was trying to sell the café for a few months and had gotten kind of used to being in limbo. Now I am both sad and relieved. An occasional customer that I have known for over 10 years told me that I was an institution here. I told him it was largely a case of taking a fist out of a pail of water. Perhaps so, but I think I have made an impact, fleeting as it may be in this ancient city and this ancient part of the city. It is weird not to be getting up and going to the café to bake and cook. I don’t have to think about stocking the café anymore or about how to pay the rent.

 

At the same time I wonder what I will do with my time. I’m not very good at sitting around. I have things to pull together to make the big move and there are some places I want to go. There are some farther places I was hoping to get to before I leave, but I think I will just have to come back to do that. I have had some very nice feedback on my café and I will certainly miss being there. My friends always knew where to find me! Now they have to try and catch me as I sort through my stuff or stroll around saying goodbye to this fabulous city.

 

 

Poetry Reading
Aug. 3    7 p.m.
Molly’s Cafe

For the second year running, U.S. poet and teacher Cecilia Woloch is bringing to Istabul a gathering of poets writing in English for an intensive, week-long  workshop. Workshop participants include widely published, award-winning writers; they come from New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Paris and a small town in Iceland. Several are also visual artists and photographers.They’ll be reading their poems at Molly’s Cafe on the final evening of the workshop, Aug. 3, beginning at 7 p.m. The public is warmly invited to share this festive evening of poetry with Cecilia & friends.

For more information, please go to mollyscafeistanbul.wordpress,com or toceciliawoloch.com

Here’s a full list of participants/readers:

Cecilia Woloch
Teri Apodoca
Margo Berdeshevsky
Linda Lou Oster
Lenore Weiss
Kim Noriega
Ed Sotello
Evalyn Stone
Jane Otto
Soffía Gunnarsdóttir 

Most people who come into the café are charmed by all the cats. Personally, I find the only charming one to be Suzy (also known as Suzy Too, since her mother was Suzy Q). Her brother, Cowboy, was the ultimate charmer, but unfortunately he disappeared a few weeks ago. Suzy is a love hog: she loves to be petted, on her own terms, which is probably why she is still around. She likes to go up to the square and hang out, and when I come in the morning, she is there. I call her and she follows me to the café like a little dog.

 

Limpy is a black cat who for quite a while had a limp. He is fine with people, but he sprays his territory and he has had some horrific fights with the two gray cats that also hang around. These are roll-around fights with fur flying. One gray cat has a squinty eye and is not a nice cat. The other one is a handsome gray with some stripes. I suspect he is the father of quite a few kittens, as the mother cats seem to tolerate his presence.

 

 

In the garden there is a long-haired calico cat who has three kittens. Unfortunately, they are all scaredy cats. The mother will not be petted and the kittens all run away. In spite of that, they come into the café to eat and seem to feel that they own the place. There is another little calico cat that I think is related to the long-haired one, though she is short-haired. She is also a fraidy-cat, but when it was cooler, she would curl up in a corner of the sofa and would tolerate my petting her, even purring a bit as she shrank from the loving.

 

Floozy is another stripy calico. She has three kittens in the shop across the street. They are very sweet and like to be loved on. Floozy has a very harsh meow which she uses when she is locked out of the shop and her kittens are inside. She comes into the café to dine quite often. So far she has not brought the kittens.

 

uncle mr. black to you

Mr. Black arrived in the café last year with Suzy Q and I think is an uncle to Suzy Too. He is a thin black cat. There was another Mr. Black but he disappeared last year. Unfortunately, Limpy has pretty much chased away Mr. Black, though occasionally he will come in in the morning before I open the door to the garden.

 

Yesterday there was a new black and white cat that I see in the square. I could pet him but I really don’t want any more cats here. Another black and white cat comes sometimes but I don’t like him either, so I chase him off, unless one of the cats chases him off first.

 

Then there is Sita (Mamacita), who was the café cat in my second café down the street. She had adopted the café when she was pregnant with her first litter. Now she is a street cat again, as Suzy Q chased her off last year. At home I have Pasha, who was the very first kitty that Sita brought to the café when the first kittens were old enough to follow her.

 

 

 

 

Of course I cannot forget dear Oscar, who was my very first café cat. I took him home when I moved further from the café. When he was the café cat I would take him home at night. In the morning, he was out the door and down the stairs and would show up at the café when he felt like it. He got sick and died a few months ago and I was very sad, as he was the very coolest cat.

 

A German girl took one of Sita’s kittens two year ago, but when she had to move back to Germany she asked if she could bring Kasita to the café, which she did. Kasi is a lot like Sita, kind of a bitch who allows some pets sometimes. Kasi immediately ran into the empty building behind the café and hangs out there or on the balconies on the next building. She does not get along with the other cats and will tolerate pets from me if I feed her.

 

One day there was another small kitten on the café doorstep but it did not stay long, thank goodness. Another day a mother had her one kitten with her on the doorstep. I was able to pick up the kitten and pet it, but the mother was wild, and I think she decided there were too many cats and people and they disappeared.

 

Many tourist comment on the number of cats in this city. I comment back that they do not see many rats. I overheard an American woman walking down the street in front of the café telling her friend that you should not eat in a place with a cat because you will get sick. The woman sounded like she was from New York, and I wanted to run after her and ask how she felt about all the rats in the restaurants there and elsewhere. Hmmm, cats or rats? Which do you prefer?

 

I love cats, though sometimes I am kind of catted out. I will miss the abundance of cats when I am not here anymore.  Here are some more of my favourite kitty photos:

sita’s second batch. they were in a cabinet and we watched them like live tv

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

so cute!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

suzy too loved this box

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

hot kitty

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this was another kitty that showed up for a while

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

for a while this drawer in the old hammam shop was their favourite place

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

what the heck is this??!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

biggest fan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This may be the last poetry reading at Molly’s Cafe so don’t miss it!  4:30 on Sat. July 14

 Jeff Kahrs was born in the Hague, Netherlands, and raised in California. He received a B.A. in Dramatic Literature from U.C. Santa Cruz and an M.A. from Boston University, where he studied with Derek Walcott and Leslie Epstein. From 1993 to 2011 he lived in Istanbul, where he taught English in its myriad forms. During that time he co-edited an issue of theAtlanta Review on poetry in Turkey, was published in Subtropics,mediterranean.nu, and had a chapbook e-published in Gold Wake Press. More recently he co-edited a section of the Turkish translation magazine Çevirmenin Notu on English-language poets in Istanbul and he was published in Talisman: A Journal of Contemporary Poetry and Poetics. In 2012 he was amongst the winners of the Nazim Hikmet Poetry Contest. Drawing on his experience as a commercial fisherman, he is presently writing a history of the Deep Sea Fishermen’s Union of the Pacific to celebrate their 100^th anniversary.

 

 

Bronwyn Mills—Studied under Samuel Delany and James Tate, Bronwyn holds an MFA from the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. She has published a book of poetry, Night of the Luna Moths, and a fabulist novel, Beastly’s Tale. After earning a Ph.D at NYU under Bajan poet, Kamau Brathwaite and Kenyan novelist, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, she lived in Istanbul, Turkey for four years, and then lived in Bénin, West Africa, doing research for a year while on a Fulbright. On the move once more, she leaves behind Michigan’s remote Upper Peninsula.

 

Mel Kenne’s sixth collection of poems, Take, was published recently by Muse-Pie Press. The Book of Ed,a compact disk comprised of a series of his poems based on the Oedipus myth and set to music by composer Patrick Boland, was released in 1999. His second book, South Wind, won the Austin Book Award in 1984. He has also translated much poetry from Spanish, French and Turkish into English, and he is co-translator, with Saliha Paker, of two novels by the Turkish writer Latife Tekin: Dear Shameless Death and Swords of Ice.

 

Derick Mattern has lived in Turkey for the last four years and teaches at Bilgi University. He’s been a contest finalist here and there and had a few poems published. He’s participated in a number of writers workshops, including one he informally leads in Istanbul. He often travels more than he can afford.

I am posting this again for my old friend Donovan.  he loves his only son and the grandmother is now a criminal.  shameful!  if you happen to see this child, please call the police immediately.

Ozan’s mother, Şule, and Donovan divorced when Ozan was 2 years old. However, they maintained a cooperative relationship after the marriage ended. Donovan remained in Istanbul until last year in order to be near Ozan. However, realizing that Şule’s health was not likely to improve, he had to return to the USA in order to re-establish a stable career and home for Ozan. (He is a jazz musician and music teacher – it is not easy to make a good living in Istanbul in that field.) From Chicago, he maintained frequent contact with Ozan by Skype, as well as paying 100% of his schooling and private health insurance.

After Şule died of stage 4 cancer last year, following a long struggle with the disease, Donovan continued such contact with Ozan, made child support payments to the grandmother and sustained the health insurance for Ozan.

On June 12, 2012 Bakırköy Court awarded full custody to Donovan, actionable immediately. The grandmother kidnapped Ozan at that point.

Ozan is a very distinctive looking child – there are very few African-origin kids in Turkey.

If you see Ozan please call the police immediately, and contact attorney Ali Kartal 532 265-2470,ali.kartal@aybaylaw.com; or his partner Barış Aybay-Özay b.aybay@aybaylaw.com
PLEASE SHARE THIS INFORMATION IN ANY WAY YOU CAN: FACEBOOK, TWITTER, EMAİL….
PERHAPS WITH YOUR HELP HE CAN BE FOUND SOONER RATHER THAN LATER.

galata square in about 2001. notice the cars on the road that is no longer there.

For the past two or three years Galata Square has been ‘occupied’ by hordes of young people sitting on the ground and partying. It started a few years ago with jugglers and rope walkers and the occasional fire twirler. Last year it really got popular and this year it was impassable at night. Last year a neighbour upstairs from the café had a letter published by her journalist friends in a couple of newspapers. She had complained with no result to the police, the zabita (the business police), the city, and the governor. After her letter was published, the city sent a street cleaning vehicle that went round and round the square, causing people to stand up and protest. Meanwhile the police and zabita were standing by. Of course the young people complained and about 20 of them were arrested. But they came back and were there for the rest of the summer.

 

in the past the square was crowded only for events such as this one

As soon as the weather got better this year they were back. The word was out that they could buy cheap beer and wine at the market, the supermarket, and the wine house. The tiny corner market was so busy that people were lined up outside it to get in to buy beer or wine. The winos were out in full force, tolerated by rather naïve young people. The square party spawned some other businesses– the popcorn man, the grubby men who collected returnable bottles, the oyster sellers, the corn on the cob seller, the jewellery sellers. The partying went on till the wee hours, usually until 5 a.m., accompanied by shouts, drums, screams, and fights. Finally last week some guy broke a wine bottle and attacked someone. I didn’t learn that until last night, but I had seen blood on my street, so I knew something had happened.

 

The result was that the police finally moved in. Now in the evening there are barriers and police tape manned by police officers, who do not let people pass them. The small market was closed illegally, though it has been there since 1948 selling alcohol and other things you buy at a mom and pop market. Now the young people sit on the stairs leaving the square and even that is a problem because people like me can’t walk down them anymore. This morning I saw that the newly planted flower boxes along the fence had been stripped of their flowers– every single one. And the neighbours on that side of the square are now complaining because the noise has moved closer to them.

 

empty square these days

I was interviewed for some no-name channel and told them that my first thought when I saw the police barriers was that freedom had taken a blow (I am freely translating from my Turkish here!) but then I was glad because the hordes of young people had turned our square and our neighbourhood into a garbage pit. Every morning city crews had to come to clean up the broken glass, the seeds, the plastic bags, the piss, and the puke. Even this morning I noticed vomit on the side of the street as I came to the café.

 

Those of us who are older and those of us who have businesses here sound very much like our parents did when we were young. These young people have no respect! They are dirty, sitting on the ground like that and fouling the area. They are noisy and prevent people from sleeping. And they certainly do not support local businesses, except for those that sell alcohol.

 

I was actually surprised that it lasted as long as it did. The government of Beyoglu is very conservative and Turks and foreigners agree that this kind of thing would not happen in Europe or Canada or the U.S. I hope now the city cleans up the stairs and that all these young people find somewhere else to go. The city is trying to make Galata more beautiful with the newly planted gardens and the youth are destroying them. Tourists are put off by the noise and crowds and filth at night and we business owners are tired of it.

 

Probably the nightly partying might have been tolerable and tolerated if it had ended earlier and if the people had been more responsible about picking up after themselves. However, the latter is not common in Turkey, as people often throw trash on the ground, knowing that eventually someone will come along and clean it up (‘it creates jobs’ they say). I guess the partiers do not have to work in the morning, unlike the neighbours they are disturbing.

 

All this said, if I were in my 20s, I would probably have been right out there with them.

i am sleeping better, but these were on my camera.  have a look if you like.

 

this fist is everywhere. the guy who was doing them was from berlin but has been gone for a couple of years

on a cikmaz off galipdede sok

 

 

 

 

 

 

cat at the swedish consulate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this man’s job is to walk the entire length of the tramway on istiklal– twice– to clean out the tracks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

old old house near cukurcuma. not many of these left in beyoglu

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a neighbour of the other house. the cumba (the part that sticks out) is quite old.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this old building in the back part of tophane is probably due for renovation

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

loved how this dog was sleeping. and a little jealous at the time…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

gulbaba’s (rose father) tomb was commemorated on the 100th anniversary (1968) of galatasaray high school. it had been there for 480 yrs, if i read it right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this is back and behind in galatasaray

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and here is the tomb with roses on it

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sort of street art on the side of the dutch consulate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a very cool door across the street

Lately I have not been able to sleep well, so I have been getting up at 6, done with the night but not really ready for the day. I was starting to feel like I had cabin fever, so I decided that instead of pacing around at home, I could go for a walk. That has been interesting, as the people who are out at that early hour are quite a mixed bunch.

Most of the people who are out in one way or another are the night people. I walked through Tophane Park and almost every bench had a blanket-wrapped man on it. The other day when I walked past the water fountain at Tophane, there was a man sleeping in the place where normally one would get water. His dog was with him keeping watch. Another time I walked by and the dog too was asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

I noticed things more as I walked.  I have gone by Marmara University many many times, but this time I could look into the garden, which had finished and partially finished student sculptures.  i particularly liked the cat one.  I also saw  where they are rebuilding an old mosque on the Sahil Road and behind it is a very handsomelu renovated old Ottoman building.

 

 

 

One day I walked across the Galata Bridge, which even at that early hour was full of men fishing. I did not like that walk, as the men look. I walked across and then walked back.

old and newer in karakoy

One morning I walked down and into Karakoy. It is really starting to change. It has been very gritty for many years, but now there are some upscale cafés. Much to my surprise, I saw there is even a Starbucks now near where the ferries come in. I passed on that and bought some tea so I could sit on a bench and watch the ferries come and go with a backdrop of Topkapi Palace. Lovely.

 

 

 

 

Another day later in the morning I went with my friend Vickie to book a boat and on the way back we stopped for an orange juice under the trees by the Golden Horn.  We also got to visit with the local rooster and hen. We had also stopped earlier to admire the tomatoes 

and cucumbers growing in a city plant box by the parking lot near the bus stops.  The guys were very proud of them.

 

 

 

 

hay bales on istiklal?

Another day I was up even earlier, so I walked up to Taksim Square. I had heard that there was going to be construction in Gazi Park, so I walked up to check it out. At one time there had been a barracks there, which supposedly gives a kind of permission for a similar building to be put up there. Right now most of the park is closed and there are several police buses parked there and quite a few police standing around with their guns. There I bought the first tea from a roaming vendor and sat down to watch the traffic on the square. I noticed a scary sculpture of a cat.  Bad!

 

 

 

 

Then I decided to walk down through Gumussuyu, which at one time was a very elegant neighbourhood. As the road curves towards the bottom, there is a lovely green park. As I started down the stairs I saw some old stairs going nowhere and beyond them a building that seemed to have been turned into a piece of art. I had bought some water from a man further up the stairs and I could hear him calling to me. He told me not to go in further, as there were dogs who would attack me. Ok, that was as far as I went. At the bottom of the hill I crossed over and sat in a yet unopened tea garden right on the Bosporus between Dolmabahce Palace and the mosque. It was very nice and calm to sit by the water and watch the ferries.

 

 

An hour makes a big difference on Istiklal Caddesi, I learned. Early on it is sort of the dregs from the night before, with some men sleeping on doorsteps of shops. An hour later the delivery trucks are starting to makes their runs and people are heading to work.

trusting bread delivery

 

 

One day when I ended up in Taksim Square I saw two girls in very short skirts and very high heels. This was about 7 a.m. It was hilarious to see how ALL the men were staring at them. There were a lot of taxi drivers standing around following the girls with their eyes. I assume the two girls were working girls finishing the night shift.

And here are some other ran

redone (redoing) stairs at the bottom of haci ali sokak on the way to karakoy

dom photos from my walks.

mystery stairs in gumussuyu