istanbul

I am deeply saddened by the attacks on Istanbul's Atatürk Airport, and I am left without words. It just seems to go on and on and on... Everywhere, around the world. Too many places, too many people hurt. Istanbul is a part of me— how many times have I passed through that airport, stood at the very spot near the taxi queue, had a coffee at Nero while waiting to pick Pedro up when he was still living in Lisbon... There is nothing I can say to make sense of any of it, nothing that change things, nothing that can comfort. There are sick people in this world, people who are hellbent on destruction, people who do not need a single breath wasted on discussing them. The world is a beautiful place, full of beautiful people, who far outnumber the bad— even if it doesn't seem like it. Peace, love, and kindness.

while looking for birds

a little bit of istanbul

rainbows and pepper gas

The air still stings of gas, and I can feel it in my throat— I'm taking a quick break from The Little Aegean Road Trip to show you some of the photos I took from the lead up to Istanbul's LGBTI Pride Parade today. We knew it was a bad sign when bus loads of police were arriving in the Taksim area, and when every side street stemming from Istiklal was blocked off by lines of policemen armed with guns and gas masks. Soon, the TOMA vehicles were moving in.

According to the Hurriyet Daily News, the governor of Istanbul made a last-minute decision to ban the parade without warning, using Ramadan as an excuse. In spite of the so-called ban, people continued to celebrate in Taksim's many alleyways, and the mood was festive.

meanwhile, in istanbul

It's our second day of relentless snowfall, and I wanted to share these images of our winter wonderland with you before another power outage!

snow and sea

Yesterday, on the limits of Istanbul.

becoming strangers

It was as though the wind had lost its patience with us, and from its dusty mouth a hot moan crept through the streets, turning the sky from white to a sickly orange.



I bought a string of chilies so sharp and fragrant— their red was on fire in the strange light that washed Istiklal yellow, and in that yellow, I suddenly noticed how the kemençe player's hair had turned from brown to white.



I realised I had become strangers with the city I once loved.

thirty-six

where to now?

Now that the exhibition is over and I won't be travelling for a while, I can try and get Harika all caught up. There's so much I haven't shared— the dark alleys of Porto, the moonscape of Cappadocia, and a lovely little visit to Sweden. I don't know where to start...



Where would you like to go?

new words, and hitting pause

Married life is just the same lovely life as it was before the wedding, but with a new ring and new words like husband, and wife. Our wedding was sweet, simple, and quick— were it not for the photos I could swear it was all just a dream. I don't know how I got so lucky.



I left you in Urfa last, where I still have a lot of photos to share and dare I say, some sketches as well. I also have a few photos from Portugal, and these I took in Istanbul yesterday. When you put a pause on certain things like blogging, life speeds away and it gets hard to keep a sense of coherence. I still have not shared much of last summer in Nepal (which was full of amazing things), but alas, time has slipped right by me. This I should do soon, as I will be back beneath the Stupa's gaze before I know it.



So let's get back to Urfa after this post.

a sky full of wings

Today we crossed greater Istanbul and made it all the way to Sarıyer in one hour— a fantastic feat, as driving anywhere near the city can be a hellish journey through traffic of the worst kind. Spring has officially arrived, and with it, the humming of bees and thousands of birds on their way back from their wintering grounds. As Sarıyer is located on one of the narrowest stretches of the Bosphorus, it is a major bottleneck for soaring birds on the Mediterranean/Black Sea Flyway.

We were prepared. Atilla the Krill Mobile (our noble, yet still slightly smelly car) was packed tightly with binoculars, folding stools, extra layers of clothes, sunscreen, bird guides, sketchbooks, and a telescope. The Dorjee thermos was full of mint tea, and our picnic basket held chocolate, oranges, cookies, and tuna sandwiches (which have become a bit of a birding tradition).



A group of three Turkish birders and a lone Englishman were scanning the sky with binoculars when we arrived at Sarıyer Keskin Viraj, a sharp curve in the road near Koç Universitesi which has some of the best views of the migratory crossing point. Pedro set up the telescope in a little clearing and I poured a cup of tea.

See all those dots in the sky?



In three hours, we saw over five hundred Lesser Spotted Eagles, 51 Short-toed Eagles, 86 Common Buzzards (including one Long-legged Buzzard), thirty Sparrowhawks, one Marsh Harrier, two Black Kites, two Booted Eagles, 116 White Storks, and the highlights: a Black Stork and one massive Imperial Eagle. How amazing is that?

At some point, while following an eagle through the trees, I noticed something that had not been there last year. Across the violet smog, something ominous was taking shape: the third Bosphorus Bridge. I understand the desperate need to alleviate the traffic situation, I do— but what will this bridge ultimately cost?

I remember Istanbul so much greener.



A third bridge, a third airport— there will be nothing left but concrete and thick air. Around two million soaring birds (pelicans, storks, raptors) pass through this point twice a year, every year. Where will they go when airplanes start claiming the sky and there's nowhere safe left to land?