black & white

While we are waiting for the polls to close on the Fluevog Creative competition, I thought I'd share some black and white photographs I took yesterday in Karaköy and Tophane, which are right at the mouth of the Golden Horn, across from the old city.

Speaking of black and white photography, there's this gorgeous 75 lira book at Robinson Crusoe 389 that I have been in love with for the past several months— Ara Güler's Istanbul. Ara Güler is an incredible Turkish photojournalist who considers himself a "visual historian"— he captures fleeting, forgotten moments in time that tell a story beyond current events. His rich black and white photographs feel more like memories to me; which is why I am so drawn to his work. When I sketch, I love catching those unimportant minutes of someone's life that will most likely never be remembered— daydreaming on the metro, laughing with a friend over coffee, reading a paper on a Wednesday afternoon. Our lives are made up of all these hours, minutes and seconds that pass so quietly; insignificant in the face of larger events.

The photographs in Ara Güler's Istanbul move me, grab me, and allow me to catch a glimpse of lives I will never know. There's this image of a man— I don't know the page number, because I take pleasure in finding him each time— an older gentleman with the kindest, shining eyes and a thin smile. Wrinkles emphasise some emotion that looks like momentary happiness or bemusement— closed hands up to his chin, a clear class bottle on the table in front of him. The moment is so ephemeral, that I almost forget what it looks like myself, which is why every time I walk down Istiklal Caddesi, I sneak into Robinson Crusoe and search for the beautiful man with the bottle. I should just buy the book— but I've made a ritual out of visiting it and slowly turning the pages in silence from cover to cover. There's also this picture of a young girl in a flowered dress, enjoying a lolly in front of a house where two women are joyously laughing in the window... oh I could go on! Any lover of portraits must have this book in their library— and I highly recommend that sketchers check it out too. It's simply beautiful.

Alright. We're one hour and a half away from finding out if I've won the competition. At 63.2%, it's looking quite promising!

thirty-one

Well my friends, I've done it again. I've grown a year older!

Today was a day of simple joys and favourites. I spent the morning at the Kapalı Çarşı— otherwise known as the Grand Bazaar— with my mum and auntie, who was in town from Lebanon. The Kapalı Çarşı has long been a place of wonder and excitement for me— I spent many a happy afternoon wandering the narrow noisy streets as a child, wide-eyed and overwhelmed by all the colourful scarves, ceramics, jewellery and carpets.

After a bit of shopping, we stopped at Fes Café, which is nestled somewhere in the labyrinth near the "Old Bazaar." Truly, I have no idea how to tell you to get there, but I always end up finding it every time I go. I ordered a Turkish coffee, and to my happy surprise, it arrived on a gorgeous silver platter with a teeny glass of almond liquor, a larger glass of minted water, and a delicate silver covered dish that hid one lokum (Turkish delight) inside. It was so exquisite,
I felt like a queen!


Since the sun decided to come out (and I'd love to think it was for me!), we decided to take advantage of the beautiful blue skies and take a walk up Istiklal, stopping at my favourite bookstore, Robinson Crusoe 389. I picked up a copy of Lonely Planet's guide to Nepal, in preparation of my upcoming adventure, which I will tell you about... a little later.


When asked where I wanted to enjoy my birthday dinner, there was only one place I had in mind: Filiz, a gorgeous little fish restaurant in the town of Tarabya. The owner and his staff are the nicest people you could ever come across, and the food is out of this world— which is why this unassuming little place has been a favourite of mine for years.


What we've got here is a cold mezze, which is a collection of appetizers like a tapas. If we were to go clockwise, we've got the most delicious beans in the world in a tomato-olive oil sauce, a fish roe purée called tarama, the smokey eggplant dip known as baba ganoush, a spicy tomatoey bulgur dip called ezme, and a currant and rice-stuffed mussel called midye dolması (my childhood favourite). Absolutely divine. And we're not even at my favourite part yet— the sexiest, most delectable kalamari I have ever had. Sadly I seem to have lost the picture— but let me tell you, it's incredible. For one thing, it's grilled and has that great smokey grilled flavour, and it's drizzled inside and out with a spicy garlicky olive oil. Oh I really wish I had the picture!

For dessert, the lovely people of Filiz brought me an ayva tatlısı— which is a candied quince topped with clotted cream and crushed walnuts— with a candle to make a wish on. My friends, I have to say, this was the best birthday I've ever had. I'd like to thank all my family and friends for a truly harika day!

romance and reality

I woke up this morning with my head full of romantic images of dark wool coats flecked with melting snowflakes, red cheeks, ornate buildings with white cake-like frosting, my hands and belly craving the sweet warmth of roasted chestnuts. I pulled on my warmest coat, thickest socks and wrapped myself up in my big turquoise scarf.

At first it was exactly as I dreamt, but I soon realised the poetry of walking down Istiklal in the snow is lost when a giant, heavy-footed man treads on your toe and you can't feel it. Even the chestnut roasters were too cold to offer shivering pedestrians their paper bags of warmth. I opted instead for a less healthy paper cone of frites— delicious, but nowhere near the magic of chestnuts. I could only make it as far as Robinson Crusoe 389 (my favourite Istanbul bookshop) to purchase a copy of Cannery Row, before I was ready to go home to a hot shower and some tea.



I am so grateful for hot water.