Miscellaneous Photos of Taxim

I usually stay in Taxim in Istanbul, but realized I have posted very few photos which capture the mood there. Please find below a few photos which hoefully work towards that goal. The little dirty yellow building above is Avrupa Hotel, the only 1 star hotel on the street, and the only one I can afford to stay in. The following two photos are of Taxim Square... near where the airport bus will drop you off.

And this final photo is of a sweet shop worker spooning syrup over some sticking sweets on Istiklal Caddesi.

Root Canal

Yarin Olduğu Yere Yalelellim. Amanın Aman Aman, Zamanın Zaman Zaman, Bizim Düğün Ne Zaman Yalelellim. Ben Armudu Dişlerim Yalelel Yalelel, ...

OK, to be honest, I am not sure if these are the lyrics my dentist, Elif, was singing as she affixed the permanent filling into the front tooth with the root canal, but she was singing something. It made the whole process much easier. I guess that if someone in the Middle East is in desperate need of dental work, I could recommend Elif at Dentistanbul.

By the way, if you look closely enough... you can actually see my root canal in the X-ray on the screen above the chair!

Kavaklıdere, Kızılay and Ulus

The above picture was taken from the window of the office of Serkan's friend/boss? (the guy who Mu arranged to help me in Ankara). It is in the posh area of Kavaklıdere, where most of the embassies, including Cuba's are situated.
And after Kavaklıdere, we went to Kızılay, the prime shopping area. I spent $75.00 US here to buy 3 English novels. At least I didn't have to start the long flight to Chicago this summer without anything to read. The photo above is taken at a market somewhere between Kızılay and Ulus. Ulus was the older cheaper area where my hotel was located. At least it was really close to the station where the airport bus left from. Next stop Istanbul... again.

Ankara Museum of Anatolian Civilizations

After the mausoleum, Serkan and I continued on our Ankara sightseeing tour. The pictures below are taken at the Ankara Museum of Anatolian Civilizations.

Kemalism and Kurdish Nationalism

Just before my summer vacation, I had to make a quick trip to Turkey. Not only did I need to see my dentist and keep a doctor's appointment in Istanbul, I also had to go to Ankara for the first time to visit the Cuban embassy for a visa. I am sure you can understand why I wouldn't want to go here as the nearest Cuban embassy is in Baghdad.

After a quick trip to the embassy, I had plenty of time to explore Ankara before my evening flight back to Istanbul. My friends here had organized for a Kurdish friend in Ankara (with very little English) to help me get around Ankara and surprisingly the first place he took me was here... Anitkabir, Kemal Atatürk's mausoleum!
The above is the Lion's Walk, the Hittite lions symbolizing power and peace. As Serkan, my guide, walked with me down this path towards the ceremonial grounds, I felt both his disdain for Atatürk (dare I write this) and the intensity of his Kurdish nationalism, in contrast with the Kemalist nationalism - a complex kind of "Turkishness" which, frankly, is hard for me to comprehend.
And this is the mausoleum... I think it is pretty standard really. The building is not so different from Ho Chi Minh's or Mao Tse Tung's. But the ceremonial grounds are kind of unique with the tiles on the ground imitating the patterns found in Turkish carpets and kilims. This areas can purportedly hold 15,000 people.
Finally we see a ceremonial guard beside the entrance to the mausoleum. I believe the gold gilded letters form Atatürk's address to the Turkish Youth... and on the other side of the entrance, a speech he made on the anniversary of the Turkish republic. I wondered about the contents of these to addresses, but I didn't dare ask my guide... Being Canadian, I believe in the right to ethnic self identification and it astounds me that inscribed everywhere in Turkey (sides of mountains, at the entrance of parks, etc) is a phrase that proclaims, "How happy we are to be Turkish." I can't join in diatribes about how all the ills in Turkey originate from certain ethnic groups... but neither can I stand in front of the mausoleum's guard and encourage my guide to proclaim the glories of Ocalan!

Everywhere Erbil

Whether in Ankara (left) or Istanbul (below), I just can't seem to get away from Erbil!

Worst Weekend in Turkey Ever

As I am writing this post in retrospect, I think my view on this trip to Turkey may have changed somewhat. It was hectic and none too fun... I arrived in Istanbul only to run around to all the airlines and try to find the cheapest ticket to Ankara available. Unfortunately, none were too cheap and I ended up on Turkish Airlines because at least they offered a cheaper rate for return tickets. I arrived late and night and while trying to flag a taxi to the nice hotel I booked in Kızılay, Mu called. he insisted I go to this particular hotel his friend did business with in Ulus - the neighborhood furthest from the Cuban embassy (getting a tourist visa for Cuba being the only reason for visiting Ankara).

On this trip, I had one day to get the visa and return to Istanbul. In Istanbul, I had to go to Taxim, find a hotel, drop my stuff and get to the dentist's office to have my root canal finished. In the afternoon of the same day, I had another doctor's appointment. (There are certain kinds of check ups that I simply refuse to have done in "Kurdistan" (Sorry to my Turkish blog-posting objector to the word "Kurdistan", but let's face it, it is a much more apt description of where I live than simply "Iraq"). I thin rushed back to my hotel to try and pick up a package that I was unable to pick up the last time I was in Istanbul.... OH, and let's not forget a rushed trip to the Mac shop to pick up a new power cord for my laptop... a "steal" at only 70 GBP! (just wish I were the one getting away with the steal!

The following day, I was to fly home only to find my flight was cancelled... as usual. I then went early the next morning to find that Cresta Tours gave me the wrong flight time and that it was actually an evening flight. Ah well, I took a cab to Ataköy and found a nice movie theater in a mall with Lazy Boy recliners to grab a couple of hours nap in. After that, I visited another shopping center to window shop and discovered the first Banana Republic I have ever seen in Turkey!

Anyway, I saw that it may not be the worst visit ever as I have another coming up in about a week... a visit during which I must not only undergo surgery (routine as it may be), but spend the night in the hospital. I hope that it isn't like Taiwanese hospitals where you are required to bring your own soap, toilet paper and food.

Winterland

Although I had never heard of Hisham Zaman before, I attended a screening of two of his short films in the University auditorium, Bawke and Winterland. Luckily they were subtitled in English as the dialogue was in Norwegian and Kurdish. FABULOUS! And it was especially interesting to watch them with the Kurdish audience. Winterland tells the story of a man, Renas, who lives in an isolated, cold and bleak part of Norway (looks a lot like my mom's hometown in New Brunswick... even down to the shipping-news-like house). The story opens with him leaving his house to answer the phone ringing in the phone booth in his backyard - one of his parents... who incidentally call everyday to give advice. He, with the help of his family (via the phone), decides to marry a Kurdish girl whose photograph he has fallen in love with. She arrives and it is clear that for both, expectations have been less than met. There are some great comedic moments as the pair learn to make the best of what life has dealt. The crowd cheered as the Kurdish wedding procession (cars blasting Kurdish music with people hanging out the windows, whopping and waving scarves) winds its way down the icy Norwegian country road. However, it was really clear that the audience is mostly familiar with the Hollywood mainstream genre of film... and unused to deciphering symbolism. Why was the hero of the story so old. Don't you think it would have been better if he was young and handsome? Why did the couple destroy the phone booth at the end of the movie instead of just walking away? were just a couple of the questions asked.

Inheritance

Before coming to Kurdistan, Cynthia asked what the atrition rate was. At that time, it was still too soon to say. Now I can honestly say it is high... and for a variety of reasons. But in the case of some, while it was probably in their own best interest to leave, those of us left behind mourn every time we see our inheritances. I have a few of Tf's steak knives and a stack of DVDs which I think he forgot about (I will try to get those to him somehow), some clothes from Cynthia, and a plethora of candles from Sarah... so useful on those nights when the electricity keeps cutting out. The above is a picture of Sarah's place with the candles I inherited on her last night in Naz City. (Note that she was on the side with the airport view).

Mermaid

Photo of Sarah by Bilge on Sarah's camera
In case you were wondering what the fashion for traditional Kurdish dress was this year, Sarah models the latest in 2008 fashion. This year's color is shiny turquoise resulting in the mermaid-like slinky sea-colored sequined shimmer shown here! In addition, it has the sleeves with the peek-a-boo openings down the arm. I think this was a good-bye gift from one of her local friends. They must be as sad as we are that she has left... at least I will be able to meet up with Sarah again soon. Stay posted for photos of us in San Juan this August!

Pacha

Before you read this entry, I must admit first of all that I stole this photo from some guy's website and that it is primarily intended to give you an idea of what goes through my head when I hear the word 'pacha'..
This evening, for the first time in probably about a year (the last time I ate there, I developed dysentery the following day), I went for dinner in the atrium at the 'Sheraton'. Although filled with smoke and men, it really is somewhat special. A little like a huge gazebo, it sits in the garden; a glassed-in octagonal structure with a skylight, a traditional place for drinking tea and coffee from an antique silver and pottery service (not that it is used for anything more than decoration), and waiters carrying carrying around buckets of coal to add to diner's nargile. To one side of the dining area is a table displaying a row of seven huge shiny silver chafing dishes, dishes that only come out on Thursday - because Thursday is pacha day! Each of the dishes contains part of today's specialty.

The truth is that although the picture above is labelled 'pacha', the dish doesn't really look like that. First there is a deep dish that is filled with the contents of the first two chafing dishes... lamb's brain served in the half-skull (but it doesn't have any teeth or eyes showing as above - the whole thing is whitish) and soft flat bread soaked in broth. Then a second plate is loaded with one item from each of the other chafing dishes, stomach and intestines stuffed with rice, tongue, foot and one other unrecognizable part of the lamb. I personally couldn't stomach this although my dining companion desperately wanted me to. However, the truth is that while I ate my grilled chicken, I felt just a little wimpy because beside our table was a party of five little girls. The youngest two of these girls were greedily licking their fingers and running back to the chef to have yet another stomach placed on their pacha plates. Perhaps if I was born in Iraqi Kurdistan (among other places) I wouldn't find the idea of offal so horrifyingly awful.

Surreal Senara

More than a week has passed now since my return from Berwari and the opening of Senara Restaurant and Piano Bar. Just before going to Berwari, Sarah and I went to check out the soon-to-open establishment to see if it had opened somehow without our noticing. It had not. We walked through a lovely garden and approached the tissue-box shaped building with its oddly juxtaposed grandiose ornate curving staircases. Those two staircases meet at the entrance on the second floor. Nobody was there to stop us, so we went in to explore. Bizarre! There was an aqua-colored cigar room with overstuffed furniture that looked like it had been dropped there to create an underwater Ralph Lauren showroom. We then entered the piano lounge. There was a multitude of glasses hanging upside down over a very (for Erbil) modern bar. Comfortable looking sofas were arranged into cozy seating areas and the atmosphere was imposing but pleasant with skylights overhead and big windows. Not at all like anywhere else in Erbil. As we sank into a sofa, a manager came over to see what we were doing there. He called another manager on his mobile, a Canadian Lebanese woman who I had met prior to this at Bakery & More, and she arranged for us to be given invitations to the opening.

Sarah, Mu and I went to the opening last week Sunday. We ascended those ostentatious stairs amid a huge throng of people while loudspeakers in the garden played something resembling the Chariots of Fire theme song. We went straight for the bar and ordered glasses of Moët et Chandon (we suspect that much of the alcohol sold here is either fake or otherwise compromised as it is cheap and doesn't taste as it does back home) which were not only real, but free! As you can see, the wall color (and decorations) could be better, but who are we to complain? But complain we did - firstly about those over-the-top staircases. But Mu did not look amused and summarily informed us that in the initial stages of planning, the restaurant was actually to be a branch of Revan Turkish restaurant and that he was the original architect (to recreate elements of the mother restaurant in Istanbul)... and in fact it was he who was responsible for the staircases. Oops. Anyway, to make a long description short, we enjoyed drinks, food and them more drinks in the cigar room (as the music everywhere else was too loud - they had a Lebanese singer for the opening).

Since then we have been back once... Another surreal experience. We were the first diners in the HUGE restaurant/bar and there was an army of wait staff waiting to greet us. We sat and ordered. There were enough waiters for Dr. G to have his own dedicated ashtray-emptier. Unfortunately, the meals didn't come out at the same time, some of the dishes were incorrect and the steaks weren't all cooked as ordered... but when they finally got the orders right, they were pretty good. How fabulous to get a steak medium-rare (blood is harram) accompanied with a sauce made with whole-grain mustard (nothing but French's in the supermarkets)and followed with real coffee (not Nescafe).
Dr. G with a view of the bar behind him.
And Mu in front of the baby grand.

Reality Check

In case you were looking at the pictures in the posts below and thinking, "Wow! your weekend looks just like a weekend camping trip in Canada (or wherever)!" this picture serves as a reminder that yes, Berwari really is in Kurdistan. What you are looking at is the lights of the Turkish army. They have many camps as these mountains are close to the Turkish border and the army has to be on the lookout for the PKK.

Berwari Beasties

There was plenty of wildlife in and around the villages we visited; donkeys, boars, swallows, and incredible blue winged dragonflies to name but a few. But there were also a number of pets. Below please find each of our favorites.

Below is Sarah's pet. She saved it from the irrigation trough.

And this was my favorite pet. Although there are sheep everywhere in Kurdistan (and in Iraq I imagine), I have never seen a pet sheep... Most people herd their sheep in groups along with their goats with a big stick. This is the first time I have ever seen one on a leash.




And finally, we have Lesley's favorite. She took many photos of Lorene's cat. Although common in Canada and the UK (where us guests are from), cats are not such common pets in Kurdistan. People generally don't seem to like them. This one was terrible cute, however. It never stopped playing and when its favorite toy (a walnut) was taken away, it played at catching its own tail.

Kani Masi

And on the last in Berwari, we walked to Kani Masi. In the below photo (by Sarah) you can see Kani Masi behind the donkey.
Unlike Iyate and Smaeli, which are primarily Assyrian villages, Kani Masi has both Kurdish and Assyrian residents. The photo below (by Lesley) shows a Kurdish woman.

And this was our destination; the Assyrian Culture Center. It was decorated everywhere with the star of Ishtar and (not shown) was flying the Assyrian flag. The building behind this was balancing with a Kurdish flag and one of the PDK party.

Inside the Culture Center, we received a tour of the building and a demonstration of how farmers in the region used to plow their fields using miniature tools. And finally, we received a quick lesson in ping pong from Lina, Lorene and Louanne. (See post about ping pong champ Lina for picture).

Smaeli

No, I didn't spell "smiley" wrong or forget the "I" in Ismaeli. Smaeli was the name of a village near to Iyate (by the way, although these were Assyrian villages, the names of these villages are the Kurdish names). At night, when it gets dark enough that it is necessary to turn on the generator, the family gets out their flashlights and goes out out walking to the nearest village. The picture at the left was obviously taken during the day, but it shows the church in Smaeli.
When we arrived in the evening, we found that the church actually doubled as a social gathering place for the local women. They were all really taken with Sarah and we hadn't come to rescue her, we might have had to fight the women (who were trying to decide whose son she should marry) off. (Above two photos by Sarah).

After chatting at the church, we sauntered across the street to the "casino"... a word which in Kurdistan means restaurant/cafe... But it really resembled to me one of the tents outside the markets in Japan or Korea where they serve grilled meat and all sorts of liquor.
And after a can of coca cola (I can't drink raki), it was time to walk home... about a 40 minute walk. But the walk home each night is even better than the walk to any given destination as the moon is up and the flashlights are no longer necessary. All in all, our second day in Berwar was spent doing lots of much needed exercise in the much needed fresh air, free from the dust storms and exhaust.

Far from the roadside

Riding to our location in the back of a pickup truck and then hiking down a treacherous trail to our picnic site meant that we had complete privacy far from the fumes of traffic. Unfortunately, by the time we reached the site, everyone was a little tired, hot, and in some cases irritable (see below).
However, there isn't much a nice swim in a mountain stream can't fix. Everyone just swam in T-shirts and shorts... but as Sarah, Lesley and I didn't have shorts, we swam in our pajamas. (Photo by Lesley on Sarah's camera).

The two photos below are scenes from our picnic spot.


And finally, we have one of Lesley's favorite pictures taken on the hike back to the car.

on our way to a picnic

If you are a regular viewer of this blog, or have lived in Kurdistan, then the word picnic should conjure up images of cars parked at the side of the road, extended families and friends all dressed up in traditional clothing (sparkly sequined sherbet colored dresses and men in their baggy pants with cumberbunds) either preparing/eating or dancing in lines. This picnic was nothing like that. We loaded a truck with water, watermelon, chicken and, salad greens and beer and set off on our way. (Photo by Lesley).
The roads and trails were a little bumpy, but it was nostalgic for me (like being on the back roads of a small town on Vancouver island) to ride in the back of a truck. (Bottom 2 photos by Sarah).
And suddenly it was even more like Canada!On arrival near our picnic spot, we had to divide up all the groceries and cooking equipment and hike, clamber, slide down a treacherous trail (where there was a trail) to the spot where we would picnic. All of us were a little tired and a little terrified of how we would, with all the cooking gear, make our way back up. (The photo below shows the less treacherous and better-known trail that we took on the way back). Note that Lorene's uncle (the one to thank for the boar, carries his boar-hunting rifle).

Mrt Shmony Shrine

This little hut (photo by Sarah) shows a shrine to Mrt Shmony, who we now know to be Hannah, thanks to Eszter. I also post the information on this later. But would like to get all the photos up first.

Saint George

I have to research before I write about Saint George to finish writing this post... so patience please... But I have posted Lesley's photo of a plague of Saint George to accompany the story to come.
Lesley also managed to capture Lorene showing me the hand and footprints of St. George; he apparently grabbed the two mountains and pushed them together to form this church.

And a close-up of one of the hand prints...
Can you see the indentation of the palm and the tips of the fingers?