Thursday, October 15, 2009

Genetik olarak sosyetigim ben.

Hic inkar etmeyecegim. Gayet pahali zevklerimin oldugu dogrudur.

Evvela sushi, personal training, Iphone, Stella for Adidas, masaj.. Mac'e uyeyim, kisin Isvicre'ye kayaga giderim, yazin Bodrum'a... Konserdir, muzedir falan onlari saymiyorum bile cunku onlar yeterince yuzeysel degiller. Boyle en bayagisindan, Yeditepe ayardinda inciler sacicam simdi size.

Bazilari bunlari telefonda mi yetistirir, kapi onu smorting malzemesi mi yapar, onu bilemem...

Daha kartlamama ceyrek asir kala yatmadan once illa yuzume krem surerim. Chanel, Lancome, Clinique ne varsa hucrelerim kendilerini iyi tanir. Gel gelelim benim 13. kromozomumda "sosyetik" yazdigindan kabul etmiyor oyle 50 dolarlik kremleri. Nitekim ilk Chanel sisesinde davul gibi sismis gozlerle uyandim, Clinique goz torbamda tomurcuklanma yapti, Lancome ise nemlendirecegine pul pul kuruttu. Supper alerjik cildim Body Shop'un %100 dogal urunlerine de kirmizi kart verdi. Bi sisesi 150 dolarlik La Mer'e ha diyor.

13. kromozomda kodlu: P.A.H.A.L.I. Hatta hatta La Mer ve sushi karsilikli helixte twist halindeler. Daha neler var, neler... Gelicem onlara da baska bi ara. Kendi fetvami veriyorum.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Fall Getaway

Freshen yourself up. Hop on a boat, straight to Burgaz Island. Travel light. Grab a toothbrush, no PJs necessary, and check your worries and duties in at the Kabatas port. In an hour step into the surreal.

Time to discharge your polluted mind. Let the old Greek houses, absence of cars, unusually peaceful locals distract you. Istanbul exhausted soul. Breath Burgaz into your heart, eye lids and gut.

Treat yourself with a dinner at Kalpazankaya Restaurant. Situated on top of a cliff on the less resided back side of the island and in the pine forest, it is known only by a loyal crowd who keep it a secret. Let the simplicity of it purify you. Leave your shoes at the wooden tables, walk down to the sandy beach. Your fish will be ready by the time you dry. - Don't let the bad marketing mislead you. It is far more romantic than it looks like in their website.

Top it with a night in the nicest kiosk of the island. Take a fifteen minute walk from the restaurant to Villa Mimosa. White ornamented exterior, high ceilings, just renovated spacious rooms, a big deck with the prettiest view of Istanbul in the distance... - Disregard the prices. They are open to negociation.

Indulge yourself. Revive.

Write me a thank you letter.

Monday, October 5, 2009


Sundays could be quite boring if I did not live in Istanbul but this city is a joker, a flirtatious mamasita, a devil in disguise, a mad scientist who experiments on his own kids and each street of Istanbul is a different film set, so its charms and adventures never end. Here, Sundays are rarely about laundry and baking. Instead, you find an eye patch and hook, and go treasure hunting.

After indulging myself with delicious brunch at Cuppa (my favorite spot for brunch), I walked down my favorite street crowded with antique and second hand furniture shops. The shopkeepers sat outside sipping tea and absorbing as much sun as they can before the evening settled. The weather is menopausal this time of year. It is cool in the morning, than it is sweating hot at noon and than it is where-are-my-wool-socks?-cool again at night.

The narrow streets, the paved roads, antique shops, and the warmth of the shopkeepers put me on a time machine and ship me back to Istanbul in 1960s. I looked at my watch and turned to my friend with panic: "The broadcast ends at 5 pm on Sundays on our single channeled TV, so, I better rush home and remove the lace decorations before the neighborhood pours into our house for the TRT Choir!"

I was about to rush home, when a 1963 Da Vinci branded whisky bottle started calling my name from the window of a small shop. I went in to ask to price and that is when I met Aziz. A bundle of joy and Qi. Aziz is a 37 year, old blue-eyed man from Diyarbakir. His warmth is magnetic. You are drawn into his shop because of the positive vibrations he radiates. He offered us tea. When I refused, he lifted the table cloth exposing a little fridge hidden under table and asked, "I also have home-made iced tea from this morning, Italian white wine a friend gave me, or (pointing to the sister of my whisky bottle), Vodka, but it is Tekel" in a thick Kurdish accent. That was some surprise from a bathroom sized shop. Even more surprisingly, I spent an hour in there.

He carries 18th century silver spoons, old British alcohol bottles, old pins, cuff links, caftans and jewelry from Uzbekistan and much more but it is his stories that sell the best. I listen to how lived in Malta as a fugitive for two years and how he got shipped back, how during his military service he punched a field officer (binbasi) who humiliated him and got sentenced to months in prison and how he fled from there, how he got caught four years later due to a business transaction, how his luck turned around the second time he had to do the military service, how he smuggled his first antiques from Uzbekistan, how he first set up his business in Ortakoy on a clerk, how a British lord bought stuff worth thousands of pounds, how his sister emerged from the slums of Diyarbakir to being a bag designer in Italy...

You must stop at his place for his stories are capturing, his antiques are charming, and his heart is too big and naive to sell them at a big price.

His shop doesn't have a name, you have to ask for Aziz to the shopkeepers.

Kuloglu Mah
Faik Pasa Cad
1/1 Cukurcuma

0532 372 2881