Ankara 365 degrees from the eyes of an Aussie

• Kudos to Anatolian Civilisations Museum, a cultural sanctuary filled with a unique collection of rare prehistoric and ancient artefacts, curated to provide an engaging and educational experience. Things to improve: lights were too dimmed, it was hard to read most labels, and more alertness is needed by security staff to deter people from touching priceless artefacts with their greasy hands. For a reason unknown to me people love to take selfies with an Assyrian king than Eiffel Tower, putting their arm around lifeless stone shoulders of the king.
• Ankara Citadel and surrounding historical areas have improved significantly as touristic destinations compared to ten years ago. Most of the old houses have been restored, some have questionable authenticity though - I saw a plaster Russian bear sculpture (more like an arctic bear) in front of a hotel to attract Russian tourists, who were sadly nonexistent due to the war in Ukraine. 
• For foreign tourists taxis are reliable and recommended form of commuting in Ankara. Taking taxis from designated stops where they queue up next to a “taxi” sign is encouraged. Catching taxis casually may be less desirable as those drivers usually are freelancers who look and act like Mexican banditos. Their horses, or rather vehicles, may be less comfortable and less hygienic. 
• Most taxi doors will not hold when you open them, the door will close on your knee and crush it when you are getting out with your bag. This is probably part of the fun while visiting a Turkish metropolis. 
• In any case make sure the taxi driver resets the starting price before driving. Due to high inflation rate don’t be alarmed if the opening price in the afternoon is more expensive than in the morning, either way having a dispute with a taxi driver - any driver - is not recommended. 
• Taximeters are installed either on the mirror or on a box near the gear. If you are sitting next to the driver use your seatbelt. In the back, seatbelts are optional, the chances are they won’t even work. 
• Adherence to traffic rules on highways is good, apart from momentary speeding well above speed limits. Drivers mostly obey traffic lights in big junctions. Pedestrians who want to use crossings however should not assume anything and double check vehicles that may override rules. Apparently some drivers have peculiar fun from scaring people crossing. 
• Traffic in Ankara is chaotic in side streets, drivers - mostly taxi drivers - can be vulgar and aggressive, harassing people crossing the street, elderly and sick included (the fun doubles.) Pedestrians are second class citizens, just like slaves in Ancient Greek cities. Most drivers do not honour pedestrian crossings without traffic lights and some show needlessly aggressive behaviour towards pedestrians, as if they are Martians who attacked our planet.
• Most inner city pavements are poorly constructed. Walking becomes acrobatics around obstacles, sudden ends, parked vehicles, holes big enough to swallow bears and other mammals, invisible dents, hazardous material and dirt. 
• On some pavements you will find yellow coloured hard plastic strips in the middle along the pavement with circular or rectangular dents high enough to trip you - they are rumoured to be designed for blind by a sick person who doesn’t like disabled citizens. Blind people in Turkey are smarter than people who can see, they have to be, otherwise they would be dead. Therefore you wouldn’t see a single blind person using yellow strips designed for blind, in fact you don’t see them at all. Sometimes on pavements, scooters, even motorcycles suddenly appear out of nowhere. You need to be very careful while walking - you shouldn’t assume pavements are safe. You need to unlearn walking, a Homo Sapiens trait evolved 200,000 years ago.
• Ankara has air pollution problem even in summertime. A thick layer of exhaust fumes and dust hang over the bowl shaped city most days. 
• There are still too many smokers, smoking in public spaces. Pubs allow smoking in outdoor sections. Some restaurants and cafes have two sections for smokers and nonsmokers. If you are a non-smoker or a person suffering from bronchitis, asthma or related respiratory problems, you may be susceptible to unhealthy effects of passive smoking, pollution and dust. 
• Tap water is not drinkable unless you want to end up in the nearest hospital. For casual everyday consumption you need to buy water in pet bottles. It is very rare though you would find recycling bins for pet bottles. 
• There seems to be more visible plastic pollution than the developed world. Plastic bags are widely in use across all sorts of shops. Garbage collection bins on streets are filled with mixed trash including plastic, paper and metals. There are some bins designated to collect glass, but it seems people don’t use them. In the evening casual garbage sorters - rumoured to be Syrian refugees - come by with their carts, leaning inside the bins, legs in the air, tearing up bags and trashing around, in search for cans, bottles and paper. This manual process may be seen as effective part of recycling, providing income to disadvantaged but it is unhygienic causing dirt and unpleasant odour around bins. In general streets in Ankara are dirtier compared to Sydney.  
• Stray dogs are a problem. They are populous in fringe suburbs like Yıldız where they come from the wild and roam. From the plastic labels stapled on their ears, I gather some of these dogs are immunised by municipalities and casually looked after by public. Most of them look frail and hungry. It is quite distressing to see animals in this state. They move about in packs in cooler weather or at nighttime, at times in threatening ways. I was told they mauled two citizens walking in the Seymenler Park at night. So don’t assume they are harmless. 
• There are plenty of restaurants, cafes, pubs and eateries in side streets. Alcohol may not be sold or served within 100 meters of mosques - if you’re that near to a mosque you will suffer from sleep deprivation, so you wouldn’t want to drink anyway. 
• 10% tip is customary and recommended. I see it a sensible way to support economic hardship endured my majority. If I am really happy I’d go above 10%. 
• POS terminals are widely available, majority of the time they work reliably. As in any parts of the world, do not leave your credit card unattended and do not share or show your pin. You must be careful while using ATMs, as beggars or pickpockets can be wandering nearby, so as Kleenex tissue sellers. 
• Using cash in taxis is cheaper, they would overcharge, if you use POS.  There are foreign exchange shops with red signs  in crowded streets, they too provide good rate, not as good as credit card foreign exchange rate though. People who work in foreign exchange bureaus act like princes and princesses. They don’t smile, they don’t even look at you. Don’t get offended. They are like that.
• There are many coffee shops in Kavaklıdere district serving Italian coffee types, cappuccino, latte, espresso and the like. The quality of coffee served is poor most of the time. If you are an Aussie (the nation of coffee snobs) you will likely get frustrated. There are three problems, the coffee is not hot enough, they don’t know how to make good milk froth, and the coffee flavour left on your palate is so weak that you’d think you have covid-19. Cappuccino and latte are hopeless. The froth looks like carpet cleaning foam with a touch of baby shit, tastes like sour canned milk powder from 1945, mixed with a touch of gunpowder, found in a Nazi bunker in Normandy - I am telling you it will really put you off, so much so that you will wonder if you are teleported to a different planet. Your best chance of having a decent cup of coffee is by ordering espresso or Turkish coffee, even so the chances are fifty fifty. 
• In cafes, pubs and restaurants you will be greeted by an army of waiters. There are so many waiters that you feel ambushed by an endless North Korean army division - as soon as you tackle one, two more appear from the bush, jumping on your neck with a shriek in Korean. Waiters watch you all the time, basically checking if your plate or glass is empty, and they walk around to attack you as soon as they see an opportunity - when your plate or glass is empty. You need to think strategically and find a table and a sitting orientation to minimise waiter harassment, otherwise instead of eating or drinking properly by your mouth, you will feel like food and drinks shoved in the wrong end. Ironically Turkish waiters disappear when you need them most, and that is when you want to ask the bill. 
• In contrast waiters in Australia are a mystery. They exist in spirit - they are completely invisible. Even if in rare cases you see them, they demand a ceremony equivalent to the King of England’s coronation. They do everything in their power to avoid eye contact, just like the King of England. 
• In summertime some restaurants, pubs and cafes open outdoors sections with limited air flow due to shades and partitions around the area. If you sit in the middle or at the back, you will be smoked to death like cockroaches, as people chain smoke just like Humphrey Bogart did in Casablanca. If you sit at the pavement edge, you will be harassed by beggars and Kleenex sellers. Don’t be tempted to pay them. They are professionals, experts in exploiting your sense of pity - they probably make better money than waiters most of whom are university graduates on minimum wage. 

Bodrum Bodrum

”When you reach the hill, you will see Bodrum. Don’t think you’ll leave as you came. Others before you thought the same, as they departed they left their soul behind in Bodrum” wrote Cevat Şakir Kabaağaçlı (1886-1973) The Fisherman of Halicarnassus, poet, writer of novels and short stories and essays, ethnographer and travel writer. 

In 1945, Cevat Şakir wrote a letter to his artist, writer and poet friends and asked them to be in Izmir on the date he determined. If they came, he  promised to sail them to heaven - at the time there was no access to Bodrum by land. 

Sabahattin Eyüboğlu, Bedri Rahmi, Erol Güney, Sabahattin Ali, Samim Kocagöz, Fuat Erol Keskinoğlu and Necati Cumalı answered his call and met in Izmir on the same day. 

They sailed to the Aegean Sea by taking bread, cheese, water, Kos rusk, tobacco and lots of rakı on a boat. They agreed they will not read newspapers, they will not listen to the radio, they will not go ashore unless they have to, they will be cut off from the whole world, and they will be lost in the blue paradise called Bodrum, where no one has gone until then.

They did not know, the boat trip they made to Bodrum changed the fate of a once sleepy fishing and sponge diving village profoundly. 

Bodrum was a quintessential bohemian holiday town in early 70’s. If you are a baby-boomer who lived in Turkey then, it is likely that you had worn flare jeans, owned a Cat Stevens vinyl, protested 6th US Flotilla, and visited Bodrum in the summer with a Beetle or a Renault 12. 

Bodrum was much smaller then, it had not sprawled its satellite towns yet, Gümüşlük among others was a sleepy village with cow dung smell in the air, hippies sleeping outdoors, with no trace of gold rush that would soon bring the tourism monster and destroy the peace that boomers had given a chance. 

Today you may wonder what went wrong, but what happened to Bodrum is not unique - other places had similar chance encounters that started the decay, eventually turning the paradise into something unrecognisable. 

In Saint Tropez, Brigitte Bardot was photographed by Willy Rizzo, in July 1958. She had a leading role in Roger Vadim’s debut movie “And God Created Woman.”  BB wasn’t a hippie (this was nearly a decade before counterculture hippiedom was invented), but she was one of many alternative culture influencers who rebelled against popular norms of 50’s. What followed was a boom. 

Life is short and can be cruel. Everyone, rich, poor, famous, or ordinary seeks their paradise on earth.  

Soon after BB posed alongside fish stands and fishing nets, the wealthy, yearning to productise bohemian lifestyle without being bohemian, and the poor, who would drive, wipe, feed or serve wealthy, both types of outsiders rushed into the sleepy village like flies on a cow dung. 

Overnight, the sleepy village is no longer a sleepy village but a place where annoyingly poor guitar performers wake up everybody else into a cheap wine hangover. Before you knew, hotels and villas popped up like mushrooms. The invasion had begun. 

People on vacation are loaded with cash, but short in time, they demand comfort and convenience to maximise their return on investment. The result is fast vacation economics. 

Tourists don’t care about sustainability, they drink water in plastic bottles, use plastic bags, use plastic packaging, turn on air conditioning units, overuse water for personal needs, use cars even for short distances, shop in shopping malls, look for fast food stalls. 

It is nighttime. We are waiting in a car at a red light - traffic lights are mere suggestions here, sometimes drivers ignore the red light. 

A motorcycle with a rider and a passenger, no helmets, swooshed in from the refuge and stopped in front of us with dust swirling in spotlight. The young passenger sitting at the back, a cigarette in his left hand, was scrolling his cell phone screen with his right hand - his smile was visible under the screen’s light, it’s an Instagram share from a girl he was looking at. The lights turned green, the rider released the bike like a longbow arrow. The passenger, legs in air, almost fell, barely held the rider’s shirt, before both vanished into the darkness. 

As our vacation nears its end, eternal quest for paradise continues. Paradise is where we move and live slowly and thoughtfully, in harmony with nature, not in spite of it. The idea of  vacation is to vacate our hectic work lifestyle. With more people working  remotely, there is now a good chance to move to the paradise for good, connect with nature, live slowly while respecting the environment, favour local commerce and economic sustainability, and involve with community work to protect the paradise. 

The Seven Elephants

The term meme is a shortening (modeled on gene) of mimeme, which comes from Ancient Greek mīmēma (μίμημα; pronounced [míːmɛːma]), meaning 'imitated thing', itself from mimeisthai (μιμεῖσθαι, 'to imitate'), from mimos (μῖμος, 'mime').

People collect all sorts of memorabilia from where they travel. 

Collecting elephant trinkets is a superstition, a strong meme that survived as a pagan tradition, supposedly bringing you or your household all good characteristics associated with elephants. 

Even if you are not superstitious, collecting elephant trinkets may be sensible, they don’t weigh or cost much, therefore they make perfect presents. 

We bought these elephant trinkets in Bodrum, from 3 different shops. 

From right to left, the single blue elephant with embedded evil eye design costed us 75 YTL, the orange elephant costed 50 YTL, and the 7 elephants with embedded evil eye design connected by a rope, and additional evil eye beads costed 25 YTL. 

We cut the rope and obtained 7 elephant pieces, identical to the ones we bought individually. 

Each elephant rescued from the rope costed 3.5 YTL. Ignoring the cost of evil eye beads, they were 14 to 20 times cheaper than the other options.  

You should never hope to have good deals when you travel - a tourist, by definition is an idiot, a clown to be cheated and made fun of. 

Lets now wish, rescued elephants would not escape to the wild or crush their mahout. 

Hot Peppers

This image is about red. 

I was walking in the Yahşi village and suddenly I saw this striking image, a table full of red peppers. 

They reminded me Pedro Almodóvar’s films. 

In Spanish filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar’s world red represents, death, women, passion and ironically life. 

The Fishermen’s Coffee House

It is a late afternoon in August, a pleasant breeze is strolling around the fishermen’s harbour. 

I am in Gündoğan, sitting at a table under the shade of trees with thick canopies that belong to an outdoors coffee house. 

It wasn’t crowded. Retirees, men and women, and fishermen, sparsely occupy tables. They are having tea or coffee. Coffee is served with ice cold water at the side, served in small paper cups. 

The estate is made of a small cottage that belongs to the Fishermen’s Cooperative. 

In past years this place had been a more traditional type of Turkish Coffee house, with waiters running around to serve patrons. 

During covid years they introduced self service. I think this works better, as it feels cleaner and simpler. 

There is no TV, nor music, nor plastic chairs. It has authenticity, good old wooden tables and chairs, a lovely garden and a young black cat. 

A woman is managing the estate, couple of teenagers are assisting her. 

The atmosphere is civilised and peaceful. There is this slow movement, a sense of being part of a community around me. Retirees and fishermen are chatting in low voices as shades of trees grow taller. 

In front of me I see a long line of boats docked, fishermen are mending their nets. The sun, loosing its battle, begins to set behind western hills. 

While Turkish flags are waving on every boat, the sunlight is filtered through them, making reds stand out. 

I cannot help to think this must be the best place on earth right now. As if I am teleported to 50 years earlier, a naive but more peaceful world where things are taken easy.

The minibus to Gündoğan

 It was a hot August morning.

The minibus was turning sharp curves of the narrow winding road like a raging bull. 

Giant cacti and bougainvillea were sprawling on hills where white houses with blue frames were scattered. 

In the minibus, retirees, tourists, and kids were travelling from their houses to downtown Gündoğan. 

The driver was a soft spoken man with blue eyes. 

Occasionally he had to press a button to reset the ticket reader mounted on a pole next to the passenger door. 

Commuters who had blue plastic cards held them against the machine, but sometimes it malfunctioned, forcing the driver reset it. 

To the driver’s and passengers’ dismay, resetting the reader took long time, with an animated hourglass appearing on the screen, creating anxiety among passengers entering the bus. 

Almost everyone had an opinion about the ticket reader. 

“It’s not reading, can you reset it again?” cried one woman, her voice muffled by a face mask, holding a large beach bag on her shoulder. 

“Is there anything we (Turks) do that works?” protested another one. 

The minibus took a left turn and entered a straight street shaded by tall needle pine trees. After a minute’s drive it entered the terminal area where it stopped. 

Passengers raced to get out, almost toppled out of the minibus, took their face masks off in relief as if surfacing from a deep sea dive.

Remains of the day

 When the sun leaves us with fleeting lights, and fireflies sing in melancholy, we need to reflect. 

No regrets from past should flow into this moment, nor we should let worries of tomorrow spoil it. 

This magical light, here and now, is ours. 

Nature’s solutions

 23 July 2022

There is a vacant land next to the apartment we live in Ankara. 

In the past there was no livelihood on it. People dumped rubbish there. Once there were big piles of used planks. Packs of stray dogs claimed it their territory, endlessly barking at night to defend it. 

We haven’t visited the apartment for three years. This year a pleasant surprise was awaiting us. 

We were told there was extraordinary rainfall in Ankara during springtime and early summer. 

As a result the land was covered with shrubs and thorny bush that have beautiful blossoms. I saw butterflies and birds. 

Nature claimed the land in a profoundly meaningful way. 

This evening I was walking around the land, and noticed how big the thorns were. It must now be impossible for humans or dogs to enter the area. 

When left alone, Mother Nature looks after herself. 

First impressions

18 July 2022, Ankara

The flight QR 313 from Doha to Ankara landed on Esenboğa Airport  before noon on a mild summer day. 

I loved this airport. It has a non pretentious, specious and functionally oriented modern architecture. Yet this time, after 3 years of Covid break, something was amiss. 

Inside the terminal it wasn’t crowded. I noticed lights were dimmed and the air was thick. I assume this may be a cost cutting measure amid the most recent economic crisis. 

I had an arduous 20 hours trip from Australia. I had acute sciatic pain and stomach pain that deprived me from sleeping, nor I could occupy my mind with other forms of distractions. 

When the plane landed I was exhausted, and I felt an immediate need to visit toilets. 

Fortunately the passport queue ran off quickly, the new passport image recognition software worked and the hunt for toilets could begin. 

After dragging along suitcases and bags along endless corridors for what felt like eternity, from a distance I recognised the most welcoming icon after McDonald’s, the featureless man and woman, the universal symbol of toilets. 

Inside, there were two closed cubicles, both of which were occupied. I was lucky, there was one man in front of me, and a long queue was forming rapidly behind me. The waiting felt like ages, and in my mind I have began to go through dire what-if scenarios, none being remotely dignifying. 

Oh the sweet sound of the toilet cubicle lock. A man was out, there was barely any smell, a clean toilet at last. 

I emerged as a new man from the toilet. You know the feeling; you could do anything, discover an exoplanet, climb the Everest or swim the Atlantic. 

As I took the escalators to the baggage collection area, I noticed I had visited the only toilet between the airplane and the baggage carousel, a terrifying realisation in hindsight.  

Once I collected my luggage, I was surprised to find a check point on the way out. For decades you could leave the terminal without your luggage checked. 

There was no queue lanes, hence the passengers formed a funnel shaped hive, its outlet reaching a security checkpoint. 

What stroke me was the grim facial expressions of custom officers. The country’s official inflation rate is now 78%. You can read the economic hardship from groceries price tags and sad faces. 

The custom officers were acting strangely though. Despite their sad outlook, they weren’t hostile nor they were picking on luggage as they normally should. They were indifferent as if they took part in a passive strike, or participated a silent protest. 

I took my luggage, got out to fresh air and headed to a taxi. 

Perfect to ride around Balmain

Sitting outside a rustic Balmain cafe at kerb washed by setting winter sun, I noticed the key was left on a Vespa scooter.

My thoughts drifted to a past world of tranquility when things were different. People had time for each other, doors were left open, keys were left on ignition. 

The world has always been raged by misery induced by war, pestilence, greed or depravity. But we maintained “pockets of resistance” reminiscent of good old days that spirit of humans persisted. 

Sometimes it helps to leave current affairs afar. Self reflection may not always be easy during daily grind of news and chores, but when we seize the chance we should seek light and reflect. It doesn’t cost anything if we allow being generous to ourselves and leave sparkles here and there. 

The rider of the Vespa returned with take-away in one hand. He placed them in the boot. We exchanged glances, and I asked,

- Do you enjoy riding Vespa?

He smiled and said:

- Perfect to ride around Balmain.

Teddy's legend

 “When all else fails, hug your Teddy” the urban legend goes. 

Teddy represents many things all at once. Albeit being lifeless, they consoled us when we faced our first frustrations in life. They were our first friends to hold our first conversations with.

But in another sense Teddy represents our insecurities. It shows, we are vulnerable creatures in need for consolation and friendship.

I like looking at windows of charity establishments like Vinnies Shops. These are like museums, time capsules facing public kerbs. 

Every object behind the window represents something from the past and discarded. 

When I saw “Teddy in a sack” it resonated sadness in me. It recalled perhaps we are ungrateful as much as needy. In that sense the humble Teddy acts as a messenger to remind us our inner conflicts.

Metaverse

Metaverse is not a brand new idea. There was Second Life, an online multimedia platform that came about in 2000s, developed and owned by Linden Lab.

These are virtual reality products designed to capitalise on your time, in return of what they call an “immersive experience”. It is worth to note, unlike video games “there is no manufactured conflict, no set objective” in them.

I watched Mark Zuckerberg’s vision for socialising in the Metaverse video. Under his tight black sweatshirt and denim, a paunch appeared. He seemed to have lost his boyish college dropout edge. With a frozen smile he now looks more like a James Bond villain or a wax model in Madame Tussauds. Something is amiss, loss of spark maybe.

The possibility of meeting your grandchild’s 3d avatar rather than seeing them in a Zoom meeting, or sharing your 3D art in a virtual street corner, may sound attractive to some. But like Elon Musk, I doubt anyone would be willing to wear a TV set on their nose just to play poker with their friends’ avatars.

We have to acknowledge virtual reality hardware technology is still in its infancy. It is too bulky and invasive, setting significant barriers against immersive experience.

But even if we assume technological setbacks are temporary and one day we might wear contact lenses and just whisper to teleport ourselves into the VR world, would you want that?

Metaverse tells us, If you fail to realise your dreams, don’t worry, you can wear your headset and become “who you want to be” in a virtual world. You can create as many avatars you can, Zuckerberg said. It will be entirely in your control whom you want to interact with. 

The chances are, you will go back to your Facebook friends. 

Rest assured once you open your mouth you will be the same person to anybody who knows you or about to know you regardless you wear Genghis Khan, Einstein, Jane Mansfield, or T-Rex avatars.

Maybe you wouldn’t be sweating in a bunny suit but the glorification you will get will not be much different from being in a fancy dress party. The entertainment sensation will wear out in minutes. In the end you will look and feel pathetic, rather than authentic.

Then there is the experience bit. Supposedly you would be able to hang out with your friends in different environments, a street in Milan, a villa in Switzerland and so on.

But would you invite your high school friend whom you haven’t seen for 30 years to a backgammon tournament on the banks of River Seine?

Or would you do or talk about anything different even with your favourite buddy whether you are virtually hiking in Iceland or virtually flying across NYC? What are you going to talk about? Oh, look at this virtual pink volcano?

By the way your “immersive” hiking experience over Iceland may be interrupted with an advertisement tailored for you; environmentally friendly toilet paper packaged in a card box sliding on slopes of black ash. 

Perhaps you should be grateful and think about Mark Zuckerberg when you use that square.