Freedom

And as I started thinking of a reason as to why I've been pushing back writing this entry, the reason becomes obvious: the subject itself makes it more than just an entry. If Beyoglu is the heart of Istanbul then Istiklal is its carotid: were it one day to fail, the heart and the body will also stop. Fortunately, that chance is far from ever becoming reality....
Istiklal is a mini mirror of Istanbul. In its streets you´ll find anything and everything Istanbul has to offer. Not only embassies, hotels, bars, discos, restaurants and clothing and souvenir shops but also family homes, student flats, executive flats, hostels, shoe makers, bag makers, tailors... the list can go on and on. There isn´t one time of the day in which Istiklal is empty. Maybe (just maybe) Tuesday at 6 am. maybe....

The crowd is an ocean in which all of us are but drops following the current. Try to go from one side of the street to the other one on a Saturday afternoon. Try and fight that current. It´ll be for certain the longest crossing you've ever made, as it will also be 15 minutes of pure excitement :)

It is rumored that Istanbul has 18 million people and that on a Friday night, at least 8 of them are somewhere in Beyoglu :)


I overheard a tourist yesterday making a comment to her loved one: "let´s be careful, look at all these people! there must be a demonstration or something!" I couldn´t help myself: "nah, Istiklal is like this, everyday. Hurry up and enjoy the view before it gets too crowded"....

And I say "enjoy it" because Istiklal is more than a meeting point: It´s a treat to the eye. Beautiful buildings adorned each flank and in between them, long gorgeous alleys take you from the central vein to its affluents.. whenever you come, take the time and look up :)

But it's my opinion, the beauty of Istiklal comes from it being a place that is alive:
6 o'clock in the morning marks the time for some people to start heading to work: shirt, shoes, and tie in hand, they make their way through the almost empty street, on their way crossing yet another group of people who are just coming into the street: jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers, getting ready to open their shops.

But to this crowd of comers and goers we must add our special characters who complete our Istiklal: our simitci; the dialy brakfast is never complete without this sesame round bread delicacy. Either pushing his red cart or balancing a big tray on his head, our simitcis stay busy all throught out the morning, even mid afternoon when another character comes in to replace him:the castagne guy. A strong perfum fills the air as he makes his way through our Istiklal.

And from midday on, a non-stop chain of characters will fill up our street: our mısır (corn) guy,the dondurma (ice cream) guy and our most lovable and cherisehed character after long dancing nights: our midye (mussels) guy.....















Funny how almost all of Istanbul can be experienced in just a few kilometers....

And because life in Turkey is about music, streets musicians are never absent in this our street.......

maybe a little show as well....

a few clowns advertising a new shop, some acrobats boucing around for an upcoming festival, a few protesters raising their voice, a few more thousand protesters making sure their cause is not forgotten.....

Anything that needs to be remembered, needs to pass by Istiklal....

and so I also passed....

girando

The beauty of stories without a defined beginning, we can choose the one we like best....
Upon hearing of the disappearance of his good friend, great sadness came upon Rumi. He grabbed a hold of a column and started going around it. As he rotated and started going into a trance, thoughts started pouring out of him: why search for one that is myself, "...I've been looking for myself ..." and so the idea was born, no matter where you turn, you turn to him, or later on, Him, it (the universe), us (society), it (love).....

Since I chose to choose the origins of this ceremony, I think I will choose the meaning as well....
" ...still inside the dressing room but I can already hear sounds of people, sounds of people talking, laughing, getting ready. I'm still inside the dressing room but I can already feel their looks staring at every part of my body, examining my every move. I´m still in the dressing room but I can already feel the sounds of the ney, I can already start becoming one with the universe..."
In a mix of dance and penance, the dervishes wear their death (white), grave (black) and tombstone (brown)  attire and whirl around to lose themselves into these attires and out of the constellations they have danced to signify....
One turn after the next, to the melodies of the ney, their arms start rising up to grab the energy that is ..everywhere, that is me and you...".
"
"... I raise my arms and my spirit follows. Once.. twice... around the sun. I now confide in him. entirely. He will keep me from colliding with the other planets... 
... the ney cries, cries my name which is also hers. While whirling, Rumi found his friend within himself. I long to lose myself in the whirling. The music helps, the ney is also lonesome: Listen to the story told by the reed, of being separated: 

"Since I was cut from the reedbed, 

I have made this crying sound.

Anyone apart from someone he loves understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from a source longs to go back... " 

and in losing myself, let me forget hypocrisies, masks, and charades, let me be one, a true one, one with the rest of the universe. Turn, turn, as all that turns, turns toward love....

.... the tombstone of my head is nothing more than decoration now...."

Mesut. 1st on the right, 3rd photo

Two parting thoughts:
The Turkish government has, ever since 1925, banned all demonstrations of Sufism. Despite it being a monastery the place where the ritual took place, and that more than half the attendants were praying as the dervishes were whirling, these rituals are tolerated today only as a tourist attraction. This was made clear when a group of 20 tourist came into the hall10 minutes into the ceremony and left 30 minutes after having come in and taken all the photos they needed.

The second thought goes to the music. A sublime sound that takes control of you to drown you first and save you from your sorrows and pains two minutes later. The reed-ney was Rumi's preferred instrument as the sounds it makes talk of lonesomeness, wandering, strength, light and guidance.
Following, a bit of retake on it....
Ab-i-Hayat

Hıdrellez

Festivals, celebrations, legends, myths..whenever they come together anywhere in the world, if they are true, they pour over onto the streets....
Hıdrellez is no different. The reasons behind it? a few... two prophets that met to mark their adveniment to Earth, to deambulate and help us solve our problems and carry our guilt; the begining of the warm part of the year before someone decided to put a few seasons in between; the creation of something truly turk; the passing of some gypsis through town; I could go on for a while but I won't as the reason doesn't really matter... the spirit does...
Upon my return to Istanbul I was told of this festival: "a night in which everyone comes out onto the streets behind Sultanahmet to chat, to partake, and, later on, to dance and drink as streets musicians make their appearance and try to make their way through these streets to the seaside..." a feeling of spontaneity running onmipresent in the open, a true street festival, a people festival, that's what I expected and fantasized about...
But in these times, men have become greedy. Some big wallet bought the rights of the festival (yes, that IS possible) and translocated it to a nice/safe/easy-to-control-the-entrance location where he would provide great amusement from great bands and even easier access to food and drinks. All for the convenient price of only 20TL.. a true philanthropist....

The first posters advertising the "new and revamped" festival marked the begining of a heavy mood. The though of someone "buying" the festival was unbearable.

So unbearable, people had to show different. Everyone I talked to told me they were going to the original site, to a non-existing event. But it did exist. The streets of Ahırkapı were packed by the time we got there, and as I saw, people never stopped pouring in. And yes, there were drinks and food and music but mainly camaraderie. To the beat of a clarinet and a drum,a darbuka or a djembe we danced. It is so beautiful to say "we" meaning everyone in the place. The collective beat. The up and down of a crowd. The wave of a unique feeling. It does fill the spirit....

Spontaneous... that will be my description.
A two man show appearing at a corner, playing for a half an hour, lifting people from the ground with their beats, and then dissapearing for 10 minutes to reappear again 50 metres down the road. And again, play, lift, dance, dissappear to only appear again. Of course, if you want them to stick around a little longer, a drink or a cigarrete will take you a long way ;)
Joy of the beat that crawls up the spine and into the head and down into the feet at 80 kph....

Eleven marks the time to start making way for the bay front. Musicians leading, the masses move in waves across an old wall arcade. The street is no obstacle, cars will just have to wait as the procession of dancers cross the road. Some even join by stepping out of their cars and shimmy for a bit.
As I told you: spontaneous.

The time to jump the fire has come and the time to rest the feet along the Marmara, that big body of water that saw me arrive in Istanbul more than a year ago now :) .......

punto aparte:
la luna, que pedazo de regalo. Ella siempre coqueta como solo ella lo sabe ser, pero hoy con los ojos abiertos al gigantesco, mirándonos a todos y cada uno de nosotros, viendo como al saltar a ella nos acercamos... pues es seguro que sabemos que bien adentro, es eso lo que queremos, alcanzar un pedazo de luna seria bello....

Sounds of bliss

Grenoble,a plena vista de los Alpes...
Los VanVan de Cuba y Tito "el Bambino"
gracias Thierry

Monticello d Alba, descendiendo por 10minutos seguidos hasta casa d Fabio
Le Phare, Yan Tiersenn
Merci Kristelle

Split, bailando Sobre un monumento
Todo Neotango
thanks Marie

Atardecer a Pag
Payasin aka 12" Tango...
Mercie Marie

23kms d subida entre Budva y Pag
Orishas
Merci Lae

Recorriendo Pag a toda velocidad
Thievery Corporation
Grazie Cami

Bailando la subida a la vista panoramica d Dubrovnik
Carlos Libedinsky
Merci Sophie

Evrey night, to the knowledge that at the end of this road there will be an angel waiting for me as well
Ben Harper
Gracias a la Vida (q me ha dado tanto...