All posts tagged: Istanbul

>>>>> 01.01.2017 Quiet on Israel’s Northern Front; Massacre in Istanbul

I entered 2017 at Kibbutz Malkiya on Israel’s northern border with Lebanon. On the first day of the new year I woke up to the view of snow-peaked Mount Hermon in the horizon, erect with might. The sun shone strong even at 8:00 am and warmed the crisp air. I strolled through the fields towards the Hermon. I wanted to smell the snow. The Lebanese across the border are simple farmers, my host had said the night before. Outside of Tel Aviv’s urban hum, the quiet of the kibbutz and its surroundings gave me a sense of inner peace. I felt calm despite walking along wires and fences guarding the Kibbutz from Israel’s northern enemies, despite watching tank-like military jeeps patrol the border, despite my knowing that just behind the white snow that graced the Hermon lay the bodies of tens of thousands of people drenched in the blood of the Syrian civil war. On the morning of the new year, I woke up cheerful, filled with hope for the coming year. “2017 is going to be great,” I hollered towards the …

Want to Wave a World Flag?

Did you know that there have been various attempts at creating a flag of the earth? One that would represent our planet as a whole rather than a conglomerate of imaginary nations. Flag of Earth by James Cadle is very modern and flag-like and the UN flag has been suggested as a place filler until one can be decided upon. Just this year Sweedish artist Oskar Pernefeldt proposed the International Flag of the Earth, but no contender to represent humanity has gained legitimacy. My favorite flag of the earth is of course Anne Kirstine Rønhede’s “World Flag” and not because she is a dear friend. She came up with the idea that we need a flag that represents everyone: No matter where you live, what you believe (if you believe in anything) and what you do – you are a human being and you live on this planet called Earth. We have flags that symbolize countries and organizations; we should also have a flag that symbolize that we are part of the same world. I’ve always had …

A Story of Syncronicity: The Horrors of Solo-Travel

“Aren’t you afraid to travel alone?” I often get asked this question for traversing Latin America. A woman in bandit-land that is Mexico.  I must be out of my mind. Rather than a land of delicious food, great museums and beautiful towns filled with the kindest of people, in most people’s imagination Mexico conjures horror stories of kidnappings and drug-gang murders. “It’s quite safe as long as you don’t go around doing stupid shit,” I reply with a shrug. But I must confess. This is no off-hand reply. It’s crafted with precision to mask my luck in having managed to stay safe, despite doing stupid shit. Like wondering the streets of Mexico City alone at 2 AM with five shots of mescal in your belly. Don’t do that. After all, it would be naïve to say that Mexico is Denmark. The story I’d like to tell today begins in San Miguel de Allende, my beloved town of crazies and artists. But I will start this tale toward its tail end, which happened in Tel Aviv: my …

A Fashion Megaflop (me) with Professional Women’s Network of Istanbul

Many professional women are unaware of the consequences of the Beauty Myth. As a guest at one of the monthly meetings of the Professional Women’s Network of Istanbul, I learned about the issues faced by women in Turkey, whether they are professionals or home-makers.  Women in Istanbul often intimidate me. I watch them hold their coffee with nails always manicured to perfection, their slick, ironed sleeve revealing a bracelet or a watch that matches the tiny handle of a handbag that always looks brand new. My fingers boast nails with varied lengths and my scruffy bag decorated with ink stains looks like that of a bazaar vendor. When Istanbul’s professional urban women walk about town on a windy day their blow-dried hair seem to remain immune to frizz when mine scrambles into an unruly mess. Their knowledge of the latest fashion trends is reflected in flawless combination of color and style. Clothing stores, instead of hiring models could just as well walk into any coffee shop in Nişantaşı—a trendy neighborhood in Istanbul—and just photograph the women going about …

Under the Rubble of Istanbul’s Urban Regeneration

This week’s post is a link. I am proud to contribute to InPerspective magazine’s first issue with an article on Istanbul’s urban regeneration and its impact on this ever changing mega-city. InPerspective is a non-profit project made up of a network of journalists, translators and readers dedicated to reporting stories that explore different subjects and perspectives from all over the world. In addition to contributing articles to this wonderful project, I will be helping them as regional editor. As a taste, here are first few paragraphs of my first article on InPerspective: ISTANBUL’S URBAN REGENERATION CHILDHOOD MEMORIES AND A CHANGING MEGACITY I grew up in Kaya Palas, a 14-story building on Iğrıp Street in the Asian side of Istanbul and as I write these words it has no roof. In its stead are machines tearing apart the building from top to bottom, floor by floor. By the time anybody reads this article, the building that was my childhood’s palace will have ceased to exist. Our apartment overlooked Fenerbahçe Orduevi, perhaps the most fancy military officer’s club in Istanbul boasting a …

Me, my hair, and my bag are off to Colombia!

It was an arduous journey filled with tortuous deliberations. For the last few months, I traveled the entire world, twice or three times over. In my head, that is. As I continued to tie up lose ends of my sedentary life, finalizing the end of my 5-year job and making sure my mailbox at home wouldn’t explode in my absence, I also had to decide where I was actually going. South America was the first destination I decided upon. I could be learning Tango in Buenos Aires, or loosing sense of time in Parachi, Brazil, which looks like my kind of paradise according to google images. But I could also go hiking in Nepal or feel strange among a hippies in Goa. Meanwhile the weather was getting colder in Patagonia and the ski season nearing its end in the Northern Hemisphere. I seemed to have the open-buffet syndrome: standing before me was all the tastes of the world and I seemed to have only one small plate and a flimsy plastic fork. Which one would I …