I knew I was getting closer as the street filled with more and more excited people. We entered a few minutes late to the depressing 0-1 score. In a rush for food Oguzhan bought me my first Burger King burger...we don't talk about how I kindof liked it... eeek! (heh I only tried it as part of the experience of firsts.) We found a place to stand under cover from the cold rain sheeting down, within the crowd of men, the smoke, the steam of yelling and singing voices....with 30 minutes left in the first half we scored 2 so fast I almost missed them, each goal within 15 minutes of the other....jumping up and down excitement...hugging and high fives... :)
...the murmur of the crowd growing and falling with the peak of action or frustration...
Second half France scores, 2-2 if we tie we lose.... I deeply enjoyed hearing all the Turkish voices splashing about and I enjoy even more deeply knowing that Oguzhan is happy I cannot understand the true crude meaning of the delicately chosen words spoken between a passionately puffed cigarette....the cheerleader has the crowd singing and chanting...with the jumping and the smoke in the rafters...we are still tied as France's defense is executing aggresively...and as 2 minutes are counting down the stadium feels grim but anxiously hopeful. I am almost falling off the seat I am standing on trying to sing the words I don't know in the excitement....and with almost no hope left we SCORRREE!!! Galatasaray WINSSS!
It was the most fantastic game, fulfilling my dream and enjoying it with Oguzhan. It was top on my list to go to a futbol match and it could not have been more perfect, unless ofcourse if Niyazi was with us :)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
A day In The Life...
So much to write about; wonderful memories these past few months. A life I never dreamed of... The horrible stenches through the streets. Bus rides along the water early to work. The sun glaring off the morning water forcing me to catch its beauty instead by its reflection in the window or the stormy clouds cushioning the light to my eyes. The fishermen dependably at work...or play along the water. The same lady on the same orange swivel workout machine each morning as I ride past, the same adrenaline...did I account for the rain and traffic? Do I have time to catch the next bus or should I catch a Taksi? Am I on time? Can I walk?
....I miss this bus ride from Istinye along the coast each morning to Beşikteş, but I now have a new series of favorite patterns I enjoy every morning...it starts with always getting a seat on the bus from Rumeli Hisarüstü to the Levent Metro...enjoying the musicians in the walkways...or the children running around the escalators up to excited mischeif, I often cannot decide which I would rather...listen to my own music or wait and see what the people are blasting on their own earphones... then out of the Metro with the crowds of people walking through the glitzy streets of Nişantaşi...the busy shops, the sımıt street stands, catching the time on a large Rolex watch in a window as I walk past Gucci...Armani, while smelling the flowers from the gypsy stands. I enjoy every morning seeing the Polisman guarding the Polis Station holding his machine gun to his chest and standing with his lips pursed like a 6 year old playing JI-Jo. I stroll past, trying to take in more of his appearance every morning. I skirt the rain down pour by jumping from veranda to veranda, annoyingly realizing 80% of the occupants of this city are shorter than me, and their lack of height also lacks consideration for their umbrellas at perfect face-poke height. So if you picture me dodging umbrellas, strategically cutting through the heavy walking and car traffic, possibly singing a little tune to myself while my hair is flying loose and frizzing around my face...you'd be accurate... I arrive at 65 Macka, purple-red canopy to Adhal, the security man, grasping his heart in ache declaring his love for me every morning and afternoon of my departure. We share polite good mornings and have a nice day in Turkish...and awkward smiles as I wait for the elevator...it is indeed a highlight. (I hope my entertainment doesn't make me an evil person?)...I fear it does....
On my way home I often idle near a shop imagining outfits Id like to wear...or entertaining myself with the euro trends thinking...could I really be That person?... I might enjoy a hot milk (sojak süt) at a cafe which I may accept for free from the kindly cute Turkman cashier. I walk easily back to the metro casually wondering at the all the feet shuffling past me, all the coats shouldering their important way by, and all the creased foreheads pensively determined. I sometimes catch a glimpse revealing life off the main street: a soccer goal in a courtyard or more inadvertant shops down a corridor...the man I bought a scarf from on the street is getting used to my passingby and we share a smile and an iyi akşamlar (good evening). I then descend back into the music of the metro and wave to the man behind the token booth, both awknowledging our first encounter which began as a few stressful moments of my miscommunication trying to get change for a 20 where I am losing my patience until I embaressedly realize he gave me the right change. We have only shared big smiles after my many 'pardon pardon!'...hehe
Out of the Metro at Levent I walk past pastry shops, past a window where many men are making something like çey köfte, cross the street to my favorite window full of puppies and kitties and sometimes bunnies....my heart saddens as I want to take them all home, but enjoys the momentary connection with the other onlookers sharing eachothers' thoughts. I then descend 10 steps, then 10 steps, then 9 steps, walking through a car lot to catch my next bus back home. I often get off one stop early in order to linger in view of the water, leaning on the railing and letting my thoughts simmer or allowing the drizzle to relax any heated passions I felt too heavily throughout the day...before walking home.
....I miss this bus ride from Istinye along the coast each morning to Beşikteş, but I now have a new series of favorite patterns I enjoy every morning...it starts with always getting a seat on the bus from Rumeli Hisarüstü to the Levent Metro...enjoying the musicians in the walkways...or the children running around the escalators up to excited mischeif, I often cannot decide which I would rather...listen to my own music or wait and see what the people are blasting on their own earphones... then out of the Metro with the crowds of people walking through the glitzy streets of Nişantaşi...the busy shops, the sımıt street stands, catching the time on a large Rolex watch in a window as I walk past Gucci...Armani, while smelling the flowers from the gypsy stands. I enjoy every morning seeing the Polisman guarding the Polis Station holding his machine gun to his chest and standing with his lips pursed like a 6 year old playing JI-Jo. I stroll past, trying to take in more of his appearance every morning. I skirt the rain down pour by jumping from veranda to veranda, annoyingly realizing 80% of the occupants of this city are shorter than me, and their lack of height also lacks consideration for their umbrellas at perfect face-poke height. So if you picture me dodging umbrellas, strategically cutting through the heavy walking and car traffic, possibly singing a little tune to myself while my hair is flying loose and frizzing around my face...you'd be accurate... I arrive at 65 Macka, purple-red canopy to Adhal, the security man, grasping his heart in ache declaring his love for me every morning and afternoon of my departure. We share polite good mornings and have a nice day in Turkish...and awkward smiles as I wait for the elevator...it is indeed a highlight. (I hope my entertainment doesn't make me an evil person?)...I fear it does....
On my way home I often idle near a shop imagining outfits Id like to wear...or entertaining myself with the euro trends thinking...could I really be That person?... I might enjoy a hot milk (sojak süt) at a cafe which I may accept for free from the kindly cute Turkman cashier. I walk easily back to the metro casually wondering at the all the feet shuffling past me, all the coats shouldering their important way by, and all the creased foreheads pensively determined. I sometimes catch a glimpse revealing life off the main street: a soccer goal in a courtyard or more inadvertant shops down a corridor...the man I bought a scarf from on the street is getting used to my passingby and we share a smile and an iyi akşamlar (good evening). I then descend back into the music of the metro and wave to the man behind the token booth, both awknowledging our first encounter which began as a few stressful moments of my miscommunication trying to get change for a 20 where I am losing my patience until I embaressedly realize he gave me the right change. We have only shared big smiles after my many 'pardon pardon!'...hehe
Out of the Metro at Levent I walk past pastry shops, past a window where many men are making something like çey köfte, cross the street to my favorite window full of puppies and kitties and sometimes bunnies....my heart saddens as I want to take them all home, but enjoys the momentary connection with the other onlookers sharing eachothers' thoughts. I then descend 10 steps, then 10 steps, then 9 steps, walking through a car lot to catch my next bus back home. I often get off one stop early in order to linger in view of the water, leaning on the railing and letting my thoughts simmer or allowing the drizzle to relax any heated passions I felt too heavily throughout the day...before walking home.
Bebek, Istanbul-Nero Cafe; January 27, 2009 6:30pm
The night is outstandingly beautiful...my heart melts and mixes with the lights splaying out over the water. Its all so perfect, the boats sitting in their relaxed haze for the evening breezes, the birds rocking to the silent lulliby of the water. The water. With every breath it rushes into my veins lingering in my heart, escaping only in the exuberant smile reaching to the stars thanking God for this moment and His perfect creations. Its like my body is on fire with the bliss raging serenely over my body; I can only tap my healed foot on the pavement to the beat of my happiness soaring out through the night owning itself, owned by no one but the honking, the dogs playing and the birds soaring along with me.
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