Observations of my travels through this place we call earth. Some are random, others poignant all are mine. Don't mean to offend anyone, but if I do so in the process, trust me, you'll live.
Showing posts with label Kreuzberg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kreuzberg. Show all posts
Monday, January 28, 2013
OBSERVATIONS OF ISTANBUL
In October of 2012 my best friend and I went to Istanbul for five days. A few of my Adult German students joked that I was already in “Little Istanbul” by way of living in Kreuzberg (A district of Berlin). While corny, my students did make a valid point. Berlin is home to the largest number of Turks in the world living outside of Turkey. Still, my experience in Istanbul was nothing like I expected and I am making plans to visit again in the near future.
When I lived in Madrid I had a Turkish roommate. He was there part of the European study exchange program. He was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Because of that, my initial generalizations of Turkish people were warm, caring and sincere. Naïve I know. Then I moved to Berlin and my myth was completely destroyed. Reasons why are for a separate blog entirely. In saying that, I was admittedly apprehensive about visiting Istanbul. Then I arrived and the Turkish people I met were so damn nice! No matter how many adjectives I use I couldn’t overstate the genuine affection my best friend and I encountered from random people, extremely refreshing for one who lives in Berlin. Turkish people are quick to smile and I never felt like I was given fake customer service empathy we know all too well in the States. That realness might also explain why the customer service in Istanbul was top notch. It didn’t matter if it was an expensive restaurant, stall at the spice market or a guy selling boat tours, superb service each and every time.
Something else I quickly realized about Istanbul and I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s probably this way in most of Turkey, very attractive people. Honestly, no idea why we aren’t consistently mentioning Turkish people as some of the most attractive in the world. I’ve travelled extensively so I know what I’m talking about! In university there was a Turkish exchange student. She and my roommate from Madrid didn’t quite fit my expectations of what Turkish people would look like. She was very fair skinned with red hair and green eyes. He is also quite fair skinned with reddish hair and hazel eyes. What? That’s not how Turkish people looked in all those movies from the 50’s and 60’s I saw as a kid growing up! But then I moved to Berlin and most of the Turkish people I saw were quite brown skinned with dark hair and eyes. Huh? Well, when you have a culture that spans two continents you’re going to get a wide range of skin shades and eye colors. That’s what I saw in Istanbul. The diversity isn’t the same as we have in the United States, but then what country does? However the spectrum was quite wide and easy on the eyes!
In every large city you see buskers. Busker is the official term used to describe people who perform in the streets or public in general for money the audience gives them. It might’ve been because it was the Muslim holiday Eid and people didn’t have to rush off to work, but someone brought out a guitar, ukulele, flute, didgeridoo or spoons to play on their knees a crowd formed around them. Not tourists! A crowd of Turkish people interested to see what the person was going to play. They seemed to love to be entertained. I mean that totally complimentary. Istanbul has over 14 million people living there so we aren’t talking about a village where nothing new ever happens. People from villages get excited and crowd around when Cousin Jed excitedly explains how big his turd was that morning, different story in a metropolis. People would not only stop, but truly pay attention and wait for the performance to end. Or they would just join in and start dancing with friends as I saw on occasion. Felt like they appreciated the artist instead of it being a distraction. I could totally be wrong and they would stop to discuss how sad it was people couldn’t get normal jobs and had to be out on the street playing instruments for money. I didn’t get that sense however.
Right, a little history lesson for people before this next observation. The döner and dürüm are Berlin creations, hence the “Ö” and “Ü” in the names. A döner is nothing more than a kebab in pita bread, while a dürüm is the same ingredients, but wrapped in this large thin pancake looking thing. They are so prevalent in Berlin we call them Kreuzberg burgers. When I went to Istanbul I wanted to try one of these to compare the difference. Well it wasn’t even CLOSE! They are a sad copy in Istanbul. In Berlin, a dürüm consists of them taking the Turkish pancake that often times was baked that day, brushing it with oil then heating it up. Next, they slice GOOD quality meat onto the warmed thin pancake and add your choice of sauce (herb, garlic or spicy). After that, your choice of onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, or red cabbage and some even have grilled eggplant, peppers or potatoes if you want! Let’s not forget the crumbled feta cheese and splash of lemon juice and pinch of Turkish spices before they expertly fold the pancake and wrap it all up in aluminum foil and you are SET! Getting hungry just writing that! The finished product is this yummy creation that’s an entire meal in a handy edible carry case! In Istanbul the pancake thing is some grocery store brand and to add insult to injury it’s small! Then there are no vegetables, none, zero, zilch! Not even a damn single piece of soggy lettuce or a bruised tomato! I mean, unless you count the French fries they put on without asking you nothing that grew from the ground is on that thing. And really?? French Fries on my damn sandwich?? WTF?? By the time they squirted the ketchup and mayo on to the thing I was practically crying. I came to Turkey and you put ketchup and mayo on my dürüm with all the ancient cooking recipes you have at your disposal? Madness! Then the bastards semi wrap it up, throw it in a sandwich presser and give it to you in wax paper that soaks through in about 36 seconds so you gotta walk down the street like a bent-over stiffed legged idiot to not drip ketchup, mayo and meat fat down the front of your shirt or pants. Only disappointments on my entire trip those damn dürüms. But every other thing I ate in Istanbul was da booooomb!
Almost 10 million people visit Istanbul every year. Ten million! That many tourists visiting a place and salesmen are going to be attracted in FLOCKS! Happens everywhere so Istanbul is not the exception, it is the rule. But, there is something that makes Istanbul the exception, the Turkish have found this perfect blend of sales pitch and humor that totally disarms you. I can’t count the number of times my friend and I were walking and someone selling something made us laugh. Extremely difficult to laugh and walk at a fast pace. Always made us slow down and at least hear them out. They want to make a sale no doubt, but really feels like if you don’t buy anything that’s perfectly OK because getting you to laugh was also their intent. I’ve visited other countries where if someone was trying to sell me something I was immediately on edge and prepared for anything, negative and positive. In Istanbul it was more of, “Run cause if they make us laugh we’re done for! I can’t fit anything else in my luggage!” Wasn’t a negative feeling in the least.
Yeah, Istanbul has a lot of pussy....cats. No lie. The city is seriously teaming with cats! I’ve heard certain villages in Greece have a high number of cats as well, but a huge city?? Never ever seen that in my life or anything like it in any major city on the planet earth. But the clincher is, the cats weren’t afraid of people! Now, normally you run across a cat in the “wild” they want nothing to do with you, been burned too many times by people doing messed up things to them. Totally opposite in Istanbul from what I experienced. You squatted down and called to a cat and it would come with no hesitation. That made me believe that people in Istanbul like cats, but don’t like them in their houses. Most of them seem to be well fed, never saw anyone kicking at them or kids throwing rocks at them. I’ll be the first to say I’m not a cat fan, but it was kinda... cool. I liked it. Maybe that’s what made me at ease in Istanbul. If people are being humane and hospitable to animals they don’t own than surely they would more or less treat humans with the same respect.
My last observation is, Istanbul has a Popeyes Chicken place AND Krispy Kreme donuts! For you people who live in the states I KNOW you are thinking... And?? To me though, I thought I was dreaming! There are no Popeyes or Krispy Kreme located ANYWHERE in all of Germany. Unless it’s a military base which does not count. I know those two places are extremely unhealthy but still!! How can Istanbul have Popeyes and Krispy Kreme and not Berlin??? The fact that Dunkin Donuts is in Berlin but not Hamburg, the second largest city in Germany, shows you how weird the Germans are. I see people on the train to Hamburg with suitcases full of Dunkin Donuts yet there’s no Krispy Kreme??? WTF is up with THAT!?!? I’d just eaten a huge meal when I saw the eateries. I’ve never been so unhappy to have a full stomach in all my life. I’m starting an online petition this moment to bring Krispy Kreme and Popeyes to Berlin by 2014!
No city is without faults. I did see things that were strange and extraordinary to me; a woman slapped by her boyfriend in the middle of a crowded public park brought nothing more than murmurs and whispers. I’m positive the majority of the remarks were not against the act. You have to be careful who you speak to about the Kurdish “situation” as well. All in all, it was a magical city that called to me to explore deeper into its currents and tides. So much more to observe in this city and I will.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
2012
At the start of 2012 there were three things I politely requested from the universe; move into my dream apartment, have someone I cared for deeply be more present in my life, and lastly was to get married. Ask and you shall receive because I was blessed with all three!! Sorta. Kinda. In a way... See, wha ha happened waz...
I did move into an enormous loft on Paul-Lincke-Ufer in Kreuzberg which is the equivalent of living on Flatbush Ave. in Park Slope (Brooklyn). At first glance the place was awe inspiring, exposed brick, open-plan kitchen, and three bathrooms which one of them had an actual Jacuzzi! I was living the high life! But, if you looked closer you noticed everything wasn’t as wonderful as advertised. The overall construction was shoddy, the plumbing was suspect, the floor wasn’t level and the noise from the surrounding renovations was literally deafening. And let’s not forget the owner, crazier than a sack of angry cats. He treated the place like it was his living room! He came and went as he pleased with his own set of keys (illegal in Germany). Even though my roommates and I paid a significant amount of rent he persisted in trying to make my roommates feel as if they were indebted to him for “allowing” them to live there. He was intimidated by me so never said anything directly to me, but eventually just had his Polish workers enter the loft unannounced and remove my things from my room. In the end, after a series of phone calls to the police and constantly calling my lawyer to make sure I was within my rights to whoop a MFs behind, my roommates and I all decided it was better to move out. In a single weekend there was a flurry of packing and rushed goodbyes and my dream loft was no more.
My marriage, now that was much nicer. I was married to a woman I’ve known for over 15 years and consider to be my best friend. That is an essential ingredient to a long happy union. Our union probably would’ve been long and happy if it wasn’t for the tiny fact she is already happily married with kids. She and I went to Istanbul together for vacation and her husband and father asked me to “wed” her to lessen any unwanted male attention. It worked. And at the end of the trip I was no longer a “husband”.
My final resolution; having someone I cared for deeply be more present in my life. That happened as well. We reconnected and would just hang out and chill. It was good and I enjoyed her company immensely. She even baked me a birthday cake for my 37th and offered me her sofa during my loft escape. But as you can guess from the other two resolutions, upon closer inspection there were cracks and it ended. The end was much sadder than leaving an apartment and way more final than being “unmarried”, heartbreakingly so.
With any setback or adverse situation the key is finding the lesson that’s always there to be found. What did I learn? Instead of beseeching the universe for an amazing apartment or a wife, I should be asking to provide a woman who has the possibility to be my best friend who will be someone I’d love to marry and together we will make a place a home. I need to be more present which in turn will show anyone how I expect them to be. Being present doesn’t mean just showing up and that being enough. Showing up entails active participation, expending energy to engage another person on a deep and meaningful level.
After a hellish period of living out of my suitcase and relying on the kindness of friends, I finally have my own space again. It’s very nice, but it’s not my home. What it is though is peaceful. After my last apartment I truly appreciate that fact. Being married to my best friend was like a preview I reckon. She dictated which sites and attractions we would visit, cancelled said plans when she passed a shop that contained anything that caught her eye... or backtracked to said shops no matter how far away it was with me in tow, scrutinizing what I ate and giving me the disapproving eye when she caught me looking back at an extremely attractive woman which I immediately exclaimed, “You knew how I was when you married me!” All jokes aside, it would be nice to have a wife who is also my best friend. Things would just be so... solid. And having a wife who is my best friend and not already married would be even better so we can actually consummate the marriage. Cause let me tell you that part of my marriage SUUUUCKED! You don’t sleep in a separate bed on the honeymoon!! Who does that?? Shouldn’t that be like after at least 15 years of marriage? Come on man...
As for the person I wanted to be a part of my life, I take responsibility for bringing about the end. Things were stagnant in my relationship with the person. We were in this no man’s land between the plains of friendship and the cliff of being more. It wasn’t doing either of us any good and movement was required. Didn’t matter if it was backwards or forwards, things needed to be put into motion. I forced both of us to emphatically state our place in each other’s lives and we mutually chose no place at all. In hindsight I’m convinced I did the right thing, but how I expressed why I was doing it... yeah ok. That was probably tangled up with some ego and insecurity. The universe made damn sure I understood yet again that when you write a script with your own expectations disappointment always awaits you at the end of the episode. In addition, people have their own director’s chair and will exercise their right to make alterations and yell ‘cut!’ anytime they damn well please. I can say this though, no matter what she thinks about me, I’m certain she knows how I feel about her. I was always honest, upfront and direct with her about my feelings knowing full well I would receive nothing in return. There is no question I never shied away from the truth in that regard, even if she wasn’t ready or didn’t know how to handle it. When I say it like that the ending doesn’t seem so melancholy, but still poignant.
Right, 2013 is about being extremely clear to the universe so there are no gray areas at all. With that:
Dear Ms. Universe, for 2013 I’ve decided these things are in store for me; a beautiful well-constructed apartment in Berlin, lots of space to entertain friends and start a family when ready. Normal open-minded neighbors who are friendly enough to say hi to me and invite me to their parties, but not so nosey they stick their head out every time they hear me coming and going. And if I rent, no Romanian landlord please!! Also, fruitful and rewarding business partnerships with people I would feel comfortable with calling friends. Oh, a wife who isn’t already married would be nice. Best friend material, aaaaand if she can cook well that’s a huge plus. Ok, ok, if she can cook AND got a nice booty I’d be hugely appreciative. So, best friend material, can cook well and a nice butt in addition to the standard, intelligent, intellectual, down-to-earth, etc etc. This list is of course amendable at any point during 2013, but you get the point. Thank you Ms. Universe for my forthcoming blessings in 2013 and thank you for the life lessons learned in 2012.
I did move into an enormous loft on Paul-Lincke-Ufer in Kreuzberg which is the equivalent of living on Flatbush Ave. in Park Slope (Brooklyn). At first glance the place was awe inspiring, exposed brick, open-plan kitchen, and three bathrooms which one of them had an actual Jacuzzi! I was living the high life! But, if you looked closer you noticed everything wasn’t as wonderful as advertised. The overall construction was shoddy, the plumbing was suspect, the floor wasn’t level and the noise from the surrounding renovations was literally deafening. And let’s not forget the owner, crazier than a sack of angry cats. He treated the place like it was his living room! He came and went as he pleased with his own set of keys (illegal in Germany). Even though my roommates and I paid a significant amount of rent he persisted in trying to make my roommates feel as if they were indebted to him for “allowing” them to live there. He was intimidated by me so never said anything directly to me, but eventually just had his Polish workers enter the loft unannounced and remove my things from my room. In the end, after a series of phone calls to the police and constantly calling my lawyer to make sure I was within my rights to whoop a MFs behind, my roommates and I all decided it was better to move out. In a single weekend there was a flurry of packing and rushed goodbyes and my dream loft was no more.
My marriage, now that was much nicer. I was married to a woman I’ve known for over 15 years and consider to be my best friend. That is an essential ingredient to a long happy union. Our union probably would’ve been long and happy if it wasn’t for the tiny fact she is already happily married with kids. She and I went to Istanbul together for vacation and her husband and father asked me to “wed” her to lessen any unwanted male attention. It worked. And at the end of the trip I was no longer a “husband”.
My final resolution; having someone I cared for deeply be more present in my life. That happened as well. We reconnected and would just hang out and chill. It was good and I enjoyed her company immensely. She even baked me a birthday cake for my 37th and offered me her sofa during my loft escape. But as you can guess from the other two resolutions, upon closer inspection there were cracks and it ended. The end was much sadder than leaving an apartment and way more final than being “unmarried”, heartbreakingly so.
With any setback or adverse situation the key is finding the lesson that’s always there to be found. What did I learn? Instead of beseeching the universe for an amazing apartment or a wife, I should be asking to provide a woman who has the possibility to be my best friend who will be someone I’d love to marry and together we will make a place a home. I need to be more present which in turn will show anyone how I expect them to be. Being present doesn’t mean just showing up and that being enough. Showing up entails active participation, expending energy to engage another person on a deep and meaningful level.
After a hellish period of living out of my suitcase and relying on the kindness of friends, I finally have my own space again. It’s very nice, but it’s not my home. What it is though is peaceful. After my last apartment I truly appreciate that fact. Being married to my best friend was like a preview I reckon. She dictated which sites and attractions we would visit, cancelled said plans when she passed a shop that contained anything that caught her eye... or backtracked to said shops no matter how far away it was with me in tow, scrutinizing what I ate and giving me the disapproving eye when she caught me looking back at an extremely attractive woman which I immediately exclaimed, “You knew how I was when you married me!” All jokes aside, it would be nice to have a wife who is also my best friend. Things would just be so... solid. And having a wife who is my best friend and not already married would be even better so we can actually consummate the marriage. Cause let me tell you that part of my marriage SUUUUCKED! You don’t sleep in a separate bed on the honeymoon!! Who does that?? Shouldn’t that be like after at least 15 years of marriage? Come on man...
As for the person I wanted to be a part of my life, I take responsibility for bringing about the end. Things were stagnant in my relationship with the person. We were in this no man’s land between the plains of friendship and the cliff of being more. It wasn’t doing either of us any good and movement was required. Didn’t matter if it was backwards or forwards, things needed to be put into motion. I forced both of us to emphatically state our place in each other’s lives and we mutually chose no place at all. In hindsight I’m convinced I did the right thing, but how I expressed why I was doing it... yeah ok. That was probably tangled up with some ego and insecurity. The universe made damn sure I understood yet again that when you write a script with your own expectations disappointment always awaits you at the end of the episode. In addition, people have their own director’s chair and will exercise their right to make alterations and yell ‘cut!’ anytime they damn well please. I can say this though, no matter what she thinks about me, I’m certain she knows how I feel about her. I was always honest, upfront and direct with her about my feelings knowing full well I would receive nothing in return. There is no question I never shied away from the truth in that regard, even if she wasn’t ready or didn’t know how to handle it. When I say it like that the ending doesn’t seem so melancholy, but still poignant.
Right, 2013 is about being extremely clear to the universe so there are no gray areas at all. With that:
Dear Ms. Universe, for 2013 I’ve decided these things are in store for me; a beautiful well-constructed apartment in Berlin, lots of space to entertain friends and start a family when ready. Normal open-minded neighbors who are friendly enough to say hi to me and invite me to their parties, but not so nosey they stick their head out every time they hear me coming and going. And if I rent, no Romanian landlord please!! Also, fruitful and rewarding business partnerships with people I would feel comfortable with calling friends. Oh, a wife who isn’t already married would be nice. Best friend material, aaaaand if she can cook well that’s a huge plus. Ok, ok, if she can cook AND got a nice booty I’d be hugely appreciative. So, best friend material, can cook well and a nice butt in addition to the standard, intelligent, intellectual, down-to-earth, etc etc. This list is of course amendable at any point during 2013, but you get the point. Thank you Ms. Universe for my forthcoming blessings in 2013 and thank you for the life lessons learned in 2012.
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