Becoming Fool of Love: Soft Revelations

A few shots form my day trip on the Bosphorus...

Finally... the sun shines!

The ruins of Yoros Castle mark the confluence
of the Bosphorus and the Black Sea.

It was built BCE and used by the Phoenician and the Greeks,
later occupied by the Byzantines, the Genoeses, and the Ottomans...

That, my friends, is called history.

I don't understand how the architecture is so modern!
I heard of a "Great Fire"... maybe they rebuilt everything at some point.

I read somewhere that the difference between the traveller and the tourist is that the latter seeks comfort, while the former seeks discovery.

What have I been seeking here in Istanbul?

I've had the comfort of staying with a friend who is a native and thus speaks the language. I've slept on a brand new pull-out couch in brand new colorful sheets. I've experienced the efficiency of Istanbul's public transportation, its modern everything, and a relatively easy access to the internet. The food is especially delicious (although not cheap), and I happen to love tea.

Have I not really stepped outside of my comfort zone? Is that what this lingering sense of disquiet is about?

I've been saying that I don't find Istanbul to be different enough. I guess I was hoping that there would be more of a culture shock, since I'm so far from the new continent. I was hoping I'd be confronted... and I've been bitching about tourism - in general - for a week now, unable to move past my frustration. I worry that my writing has been redundant. What can I say? This is evidence that I've been working hard at processing somethings I couldn't quite put into focus.
As always, I humbly hope that my blog can make room for others to go through similar processes. We all have them, on all kinds of angles.

In this case, I now see how I've been standing in my own way.

For my defense...

Istanbul is an expensive city.( And I have a lot of fears when it comes to money.) It is particularly frustrating that I am regularly asked to pay more, just because I am a foreigner. I want to tell them, "Wait! Just 'cause I'm visiting doesn't mean I have tons of money! I'm not a tourist, I'm a traveller! Can't you see me, me, and not just some English-speaking wallet?!"

But I don't speak their language, so I can't argue.

I am vulnerable.

It's tough, and humbling.

I long to be seen as an equal, but I am different. It's true on some level; I don't know what it's been like... I haven't worked amongst them, for the greater good of the region and its people. Everything is give and take. This is a basic natural law. If I come here to take in the culture, I must give something back. But it's been difficult. I haven't come here to consume them. All I want is to wonder, talk with people about differences and similarities, share a narguile perhaps.

Sometimes, I can almost believe that it makes sense for foreigners to pay more. It's like a form of protectionism or something; "If you don't work with us, then you gotta bring something else." But how much of this "protectionism" is based in fear, in xenophobia, in what I've come to term "reactive" nationalism?

When i talk about the realities of being a wanderer, that's what I mean. Wherever I go, I wonder if people think just that: "If you don't work with us…" So please note, I am not only talking about Istanbul.

As a joker, I work for all of mankind. I work for the Divine (Not that my job description is clearly stated, but it does include the daily surrender of my ego. Of course, I'm still very much of an apprentice.) How do I explain that, in Turkish? Or in Czech?

So the truth is: I have been more uncomfortable than I've admitted to myself. I've been more afraid than I like to think. I've projected all kinds of feelings unto these people!

This is a modern secular country, but a muslim one nevertheless. The Q'ran suggests that women cover their head; my hairdo is the opposite of modest, of "proper". My appearance is screaming "other", at least, that's what the voice in my head has been saying.

Well... so be it. I am fool of love still. It is up to me to share my love.

So I took my juggling clubs this morning and I went to the park down the street from Ezgi's... right on the water. And I stretched a bit, and I juggled for the Sun and the Water... and guess what? I made more eye contact, shared more smiles, and said more "Mehraba!" than I might have in a week. :)

So what if my hair is different? We all bleed the same red blood.. We all shiver and smile sometimes when music reaches straight to the heart...

Turkish band Alatav has refused to sell out to recording companies...
they make an offering of their soulful music in Taksim.

Random trivia:

There are no sidewalks in Istanbul. (Well... there are, but people just don't use them.) Cars, motorcycles, pedestrians, stray cats and dogs just dance a crazy dance all together. One gets to walk in the middle of the streets, but one's gotta be alert.

Yes, one's gotta be alert...