Posts Tagged ‘ieiMedia’

Goodbyes have never been my forte. I’m a crier plain and simple. Goodbyes for me are often punctuated with tears, sniffles and the occasional snot bubble. Saying goodbye to Istanbul and the people I have come to care for there was no exception. I never expected it to be so hard to leave. Perhaps because I never expected to love Istanbul as deeply as I do. Istanbul has changed me, taught me, and helped me to grow. Saying goodbye left my heart aching and my eyes puffy and red. I will be forever grateful for the experiences I had and the people I met and loved.

Returning to Los Angeles has been difficult. It really hit me for the first time as I was standing on the curb at LAX, waiting for my friend to pick me up, that I am not in Istanbul anymore. It hurts my heart. The pain of leaving the city that I have come to love so dearly to return to a city that I have never liked leaves me feeling a deep sadness. I can’t tell you how many times I have looked at a clock and expected to here a Call ring out across the city or the Ramazan drums booming up and down the streets. I miss Istanbul something fierce.

I take comfort in the fact that I know in my heart that this is not the end for Istanbul and I. I will return and when I do, it will be to stay. And I remind myself that returning to Los Angeles gives me the opportunity prepare for that reunion. Goals have been set, actions are being taken and inquiries have been made, all in the name of going home to Istanbul. It will happen. My heart tells me so.

The Blue Mosque. One of the most heavily touristed mosques in Istanbul that is still used as a place of prayer.

Istikal. The major shopping promenade located in the neighborhood of Taksim. This was taken around 2am so it was unusually quiet. At anytime during the day there are thousands of people walking up and down this street.

This is a hot air balloon located in Kadaköy on the asian side of Istanbul. It takes you 200m into the air for a panoramic view of the city. Unfortunately it was too windy to operate during my time in Istanbul.

One of the things  I love about Istanbul is that the city is filled with music. This guy was performing on the street in Ankara.

One of things I don’t like about Istanbul is the disregard shown towards the disabled. Often disabled people are used as “props” on the streets (frequently by friends or family members) in order to beg for money.  This blind man was sitting alone, outside of a bar off of Istikal, drinking an muttering to himself. Nobody seemed to even notice that he was there.

I saw this little girl as I was sitting in a sidewalk cafe drinking tea. Unfortunately I wasn’t fast enough to catch a shot of her face. She was adorable. This was taken without me even looking through my camera. My camera was sitting on the table in front of me when I clicked the shutter.  I know it’s not sharp, but I still like it.

View of Sultanahmet taken from a ferry crossing the Bosphorus.

Another shot taken from my perch in the window of my hostel room.

The Bosphorus.

The Boy and I on our last day together. Tearful goodbyes followed.

Museum of Ethnography in Ankara. Playing with Depth of Field. Also might want to note that this pocketwatch was behind glass.

Ataturk’s Mausoleum in Ankara.

My classmate and friend Liv.

The cistern in Sultanahmet.

A playful little girl. She got a little freaked out when she noticed I was taking her picture.

More fun with depth of field at the Museum of Ethnography in Ankara.

View from Galata.

The AyaSofya. Once a mosque. Now a museum.

Museum of Ethnography in Ankara.

Heart Balloons.

AyaSofya

The Galata Tower

I shot this around 2am on a side street off of Istikal. Not sure what this little boy was roasting. He is one of thousands of children seen working the streets in Istanbul at all hours of the day or night.

I just liked the color of this boat.

The changing of the guards at Ataturk’s tomb. This is the only time you will see the guards move. Once they are in their stationed spot, they remain perfectly still. I was told that they even inject some sort of drug in order to stay so still…

Along the coast of Asia.

Take from it what you will…

A couple of Muslim women enjoying the breeze on the Bosphorus.

My heart belongs to Istanbul.

Peace and Love.

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A few more sneak attack images. I will be adding to this as I shoot more.

I sat in my window for 20 minutes waiting for this woman to turn her head…

… and then I got caught.

I see this man everyday and I am dying to take a portrait of him…

More to come…

Peace and Love.

Looks like she caught me again trying to snag a photo of her. I swear I am not in the habit of stalking lil old ladies. I have just been dying to get a good picture or two of her.

I have seen this woman a few times sitting in her window and have never been quick enough to grab my camera and snap a pic of her… until now.

Peace and Love

I am staying in a hostel in Taksim for my last few days here. I have taken to sitting in my window with my camera and snapping candid snapshots of the people in my new hood. I am so loving this city. Below are some of the images I have shot during my last week. Some are from my window, some are not. All are little tastes of the things I love about this city.

There is an enormous stray cat population in Istanbul. This little guy was sitting in the doorway of the underground mosque in Karaköy.

Shot from the window of my hostel. This woman was basically doing what I was doing – watching the neighborhood go by from her window.

A couple of days ago, I took a boat ride up the Bosphorus. It was the first touristy thing I had done since my first week here. It was nice to be on the water, to see the landscapes and to watch the people relaxing.

This mother was showing her son how to feed pigeons. Feeding flocks of pigeons seems to be something that is common in every city I travel too.

One of the things that I love the most about this city are the community areas. All throughout the city are parks, squares and waterfronts where people gather, sit, drink. eat, and socialize together. Cheap outdoor entertainment that promotes community wellbeing. Love it.

Another shot from my boat ride. I love the reddish brown building.

I see this woman sitting on her balcony and watching the people below almost everyday. Her balcony is just across from my window.

There was something about this grandfather and granddaughter that I loved. I think it was the older generation caring for and guiding the younger one.

Being a predominantly Muslim country, women in head scarves are not an unusual sight. I just finally snapped a picture of one.

I find this city to be so enticing. Not just visually but in every sense. The sights, the smells, the sounds, the feel… I am deeply, madly in love with Istanbul. I can’t wait to live here.

Peace and Love.

We all know the story… Traveling woman meets local boy and, despite the language barrier, sparks fly. Typical travel romance ensues. I have been debating whether or not to write this entry for the last week or two. I am not one to air my dirty laundry to the entire world. Some things are best kept among those you are closest to. But seeing as I have started writing it now, I may as well finish it and see where it goes.

As much as I like to consider myself to not be the typical traveler, I guess in some ways I am. Abroad romance is not a foreign territory for me. And this trip is, although completely unexpected, no exception. Although I will say that this has not been my typical experience as far as abroad romances go.

It started typically enough. Girl sees boy, eyes meet, smiles are exchanged. Boy cleverly fashions a flower from an unsmoked cigarette and presents it to girl (not so typical I guess), girl thinks boy is adorable. Boy palms girl his number as she is leaving. And the story unfolds from there.

Despite our obvious communication barrier, I speak next to no Turkish and he speaks very little English, we seem to manage to communicate well enough and we definitely enjoy spending time together and have a good time when we do.  But recently I can’t help but wonder about abroad romances in general. Does what happens in Turkey stay in Turkey? And what if you don’t want it to?

Now let’s be realistic here. There are the obvious language and cultural barriers, not to mention half a planet between us. Besides, how well can you really know someone when you can’t really delve below the surface in conversation? Is someone’s behavior and body language enough? I have found myself pondering these questions more and more as I spend more time with my Turkish beau.

If you think about it, abroad romances are kind of silly. Eventually they have to come to an end right? One person in the couple is destined to leave. And what if you manage to find someone you could really see yourself with (not saying that that is the case here) and then you have to leave? Is that it? Or does someone uproot his/her life to be with the the other?

I met a girl here who is also from California, and she has been living here for the past 5 months. For the past month she has had a Turkish boyfriend. And now, as her time in Istanbul is coming to an end, he is trying to figure out how he can move to the states to be with her.   That then leaves me wondering… What happens if it doesn’t work out? or if he hates living in the states? or what if they’re relationship doesn’t fit as well in the states as it does in Turkey? (Can relationships be confined or attached to a geographical location?) Is it really worth it?

I am thinking that I am not going to find the answers to these questions in my own blog post. Perhaps it would make an interesting feature piece to work on when I get home?

In the meantime. I have 8 days left in this city and I plan to enjoy them and to try not to think of the goodbyes that lie in my immediate future. It is going to hurt to say goodbye to this city, the culture, the home I have found here, the people, and the boy. I am not ready to do so, but in 8 days I am going to have to; ready or not.

Peace and Love.

Yesterday I moved from my beloved neighborhood of Beşiktaş into a hostel in, my less than favorite area, Taksim. The hostel is adequate, but slightly terrible but at least I have my own room. Regardless, it’s home for the next 10 days.

I am in Istanbul alone now; all the girls from my school program have left to either travel elsewhere or go home.  The city has changed for me since their departure. I still love this place deeply and feel like it is home, but I find myself hesitant to explore much on my own. I guess I just need to adjust to being on my own here. I have done so much traveling on my own and it has always been positive. Sometimes it just takes me a minute to switch into solo mode.

One thing that I am doing while I am still here is trying to write an article on Children of Hope, the organization that I have been working with since I got here. Bürde, my friend and  interpreter, and I paid the organization a visit yesterday for yet another interview with Ferat Şahin, the organization’s director.

Much to my surprise, the afternoon found me sitting across from Ferat and taking one of the worst beatings at Tavla (Backgammon) I have ever received. He crushed me 5 games in a row (and I am not that terrible a player), but it was all in good fun. He is possibly the best Tavla player I have ever encountered and as a result, I find myself in debt to the organization’s kids for a hefty helping of Baklava. Ferat said I don’t have to pay my “debt” but I will and I want to.

So we sat down for another long talk. I had a million questions to ask him and he had a million answers for me. All in all the interview went well and I no longer felt like Ferat was sick of my thousands of questions; I think the Tavla games helped. My goal for this interview was different than the previous ones. Since I have extra time here, I am trying to write an article on the organization in order to submit it to the Hurriyet Daily News here in Istanbul in the hopes of getting it published and of raising some awareness and possibly even some help for them. At the same time I am attempting to put together a package on the organization in order to submit it to some other, international organizations with the hope of drumming up some resources for CHA.

It’s not everyday that I have the opportunity to work with an organization like this or that I get to try to help an organization like this. As a journalist I am sure that I will encounter several more organizations during my career, and I probably won’t be able to help them all, but I have the time and the resources to do it here and so I have decided to give it a go. CHA has earned a special place in my heart.

Peace and Love.

As Shabbat comes to a close, a group of HUC students, have gathered together for food, music and merriment. Much reminicent of my days in summer camp, a guitar comes out and songs are sung, food is eaten and laughter is bountiful.

My best friend moved to Jerusalem 2 months ago to attend his first year of rabbinical school. My being in Istanbul was the perfect opportunity for me to pay my bestie a much needed visit. Needless to say, that summer camp was not on my list of expectations. It wasn’t even on the long list. And yet, here I sit, surrounded by future rabbis and canters of reform Judaism and the only things missing are a camp fire and some smores.

The night before, we had a much more intimate and traditional Shabbat celebration and feast. And sitting here today, among this boisterous group, I find the comparison between the two celebrations to be intriguing to say the least. Our celebration last night was held with reverence as age old traditions were honored and practiced. Prayer, ritual, food, and song were all abundant as was camaraderie. Conversely, today’s celebration felt more like a gathering of classmates (which it was).  There was an abundance of people, food, and wine. Laughter and jocularity were plentiful. Reverence, ritual and tradition had essentially been thrown out the window as this lively group gathered and cast off the bondage of the previous week’s schooling. And then the guitar came out and summer camp began. American pop radio songs were sung in unison with fervor and excitement. It was a new day and a totally different Shabbat.

My bestie and I discussed the comparison later this evening. Both celebrations, we found to be fun and endearing. I verbalized my surprise at the contrast between the two as well as my gratitude for having gotten to witness and participate in both. Chalk it up to another cultural learning experience stoking the fires of my religious (and spiritual) curiosity. This is a beautiful thing.

Peace and Love.

Faith, Tradition, Prayer, Song, Feast, Conversation, Friends, Laughter, Community, Celebration, Love and Light. These are the words that come to mind when I think of my first real Shabbat experience. It is Friday night in Jerusalem and Shabbat is in full swing.

I arrived in Jerusalem yesterday in the very early hours of the morning. My best friend moved here two months ago, and seeing that it was only a three hour journey from Istanbul, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to visit him in his new world. It has been less that 48 hours since I arrived and I am already overwhelmed by all that I have seen, experienced and felt.

Yesterday was a day of very little sleep, hours upon hours of walking in very intensive heat, and the meeting of distinctly different religions. My best friend, who is a bit of rabbi, history teacher and tour guide all rolled into one, mapped out a long day of many sights. Needless to say, we hit the ground running.

 First on the agaenda was the Dome of the Rock. The Dome of the rock is a huge Muslim shrine, with a golden  dome, that is considered to be the most famous Muslim sight in Jerusalem. Built on a sacred stone, which is  believed to be the stone on which Abraham prepared to sacrifice Isaac, the Dome of the Rock stands  majestically, rising up out of the Jerusalem panoramic gleaming so brightly as to be seen for miles and miles.  Built from 688 – 691AD, the Dome was not originally intended to be a mosque, but instead a shrine for pilgrims.  Today, its beautiful mosaic walls and shining  golden dome stand, as majestically as ever, in the Muslim  Quarter of Jerusalem, interestingly juxtaposed with Western Wall, one of the most sacred spots in Judaism.  While we were there, a Call to Prayer rang out and I  was struck by how different it sounded from the ones I have  become so accustomed to and enamored with in  Istanbul. My adoration was by no means lessened, but instead  grew even deeper as I heard this call that was  seemingly new to me.

The next stop on our list was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which was  built in 330AD and commemorates the hill on which Jesus was believed to  be crucified and the tomb in which his body was believed to be buried. This  place was the “mecca” for anyone of the Catholic or Christian faith – chalk  full of artifacts that could be considered some of the holiest of the holy. The supposed site of Jesus’s crucifixion, the stone that his body was washed on after being removed from the cross, and the site where his body was believed to be entombed are all housed in this church. I was struck, as I walked around, by the overt displays of faith from the other visitors. People in prayer, people singing, people kneeling, and some even writhing with I guess was what they felt to be the presence of God. It was both interesting and admirable. At the same time, I was struck by my own detachment from theses same things that had brought others to their knees. Having been raised Catholic, I have been taught the stories and was well aware of the significance of the things that I was seeing, and yet, I felt no affiliation with them whatsoever. What I did feel was the intensity of other people’s faith and that was amazing to see and feel.

 The final place on our agenda yesterday was the Western or “Wailing” Wall. A  site that is considered to be one  of the holiest spots in Judaism. The Western  Wall is a section of the western supporting wall of the Temple  Mount that has  remained in tact since the destruction of the Second Jerusalem Temple approximately  2000 years ago.  To an  outsider, the wall is just a wall, but from what I understand, the Western Wall is believed  to be a site where  the  Divine Presence of  God is always present. Among the cracks and crevices of the wall, as high as the average  man  can reach, there are scraps of papers that have been crammed into the wall’s spaces – each bit of paper a prayer or  letter or poem of some kind to God. At any time of the day or night, you can find people there praying  This was  an  interesting thing for me, an outsider who has no knowledge of the jewish  faith or history or  tradition. While I  happened to be there, there was also a large group of young women, that were obviously all in  the same group,  and all were in prayer. Girls were swaying back and forth reciting prayers from  a book. Some of those  girls (the  ones  that could push their way to the wall) had their faces pressed against the  wall as they prayed and  others  had their  faces buried in their prayer books. I asked someone what that was about  and she said that it was  a way  to avoid  being distracted by outside things when praying.

While writing this, again I am struck by how profound I found my experiences at the Dome and the Wall were and  detached I was from any experience at the Church. My exposure to these traditions and faiths has tapped my curiosity and I find myself wanting to learn and understand as much as I can about these things that I know so little about. I find the devotion, the persistence of tradition and the intensity of faith to have tapped my thirst for further knowledge.

Peace and Love.