Istanbul

I finally have the time to write about Istanbul. Not that I've been busy with any mission to save the world (protests seem contagious in Africa) but I spent the whole day yesterday writing and submitting three articles on different topics. I'm taking some online journalism classes that I'm not sure where that would lead me because I'm not looking to join the circle but I just find it interesting and I love the writing part. We all know that looking back on our lives, we'll regret the things we didn't do more than the ones we did.

Back to Istanbul. It was probably one of the few smooth trips that we had. The flights were prompt and the public transports were easy to navigate. The only flaw was getting roommates from hell. Well, Korea actually. I think that was their first time backpacking because how else can you explain people speaking loudly and going in and out at 3am in a hostel room? Lack of common sense would be my second guess. One time they didn't even flush the toilet, eeeewwww. Did they honestly think their waste would magically vanish in the morning??? But even that could not spoil our time in Istanbul. It was even our little paradise with the abundance of adorable cats and finger licking halal food.

The Muslims there practise things a bit differently compared to what we know of. I won't elaborate because religion is a delicate line (which I'll stay away until my online journalism classes educate me on how to write about sensitive issues, heh!). It was however, a very fascinating observation in addition to the majestic mosques and wonderful people. We took a boat from the Europe side of Istanbul to the Asia part and a Turkish middle-aged man started talking to us. We hit it off right away, talking about our countries and families. At the end of the 30 minutes trip, he gave us his name card just in case we got into any sort of trouble in the city.

On another occassion, hubs and I were walking down a busy road when we were approached by a plump Turkish young man looking so gloomy that we had to stop. He asked us to visit his carpet and kilim store. You don't have to be a seasoned traveller to know at once that the man was going to trap us into buying something so we said no. We kept giving excuses such as we were students and we did not bring any money while he insisted that he just wanted us to visit to bring him luck. I don't know how we couldn't resist his invitation like we did with so many other street sellers in the city. Perhaps it was his sad eyes, or maybe God decided to open our hearts at that moment. So we followed him to his store where he introduced us to his father, an old but jubilant old man. Tucked away in a quiet street, they have not had a customer in three months. We started to regret our decision to come in when they happily served us homemade apple tea and talked about their collections that they bought from their fellow poor villagers. They inquired about us once in a while but we logically assumed that it was just a trick to make a connection in a hope that we would eventually purchase something but we politely went with it. Then they noticed that I was interested in one of the handwoven kilim bags. When they asked me if I liked it, I wasn't sure what to say as I naturally thought that by saying yes, they would make me buy it. I said yes anyway. The next thing that came out of the father’s mouth was not something we were prepared for, “Well then that is my gift to you”. Surprised, we promptly handed them the money but they refused and the father even gave us a big bear hug when he saw our distressed faces, “You are like my children so think of me as your father. Any trouble in Istanbul, you can come here. This is your home too. Keep your money, the bag is my gift to you. Just bring me a gift from Malaysia when you come back”. I had tears in my eyes the moment he hugged me and said those words. So if you happen to go to Istanbul, perhaps you can visit them.

Turker Ayaz
Binbirdirek Mah.
Boyaci Ahmet Sk.
No: 20/A Cemberlitas
Istanbul, Turkey

I wrote about the people because you can easily read about the history and main attractions on the world wide web but not the real gem of the country.

In the Middle of the Night

Sleep. I should go back to bed instead of watching the rerun of Tom & Jerry. I woke up two hours ago and started writing about the father and son we met in Istanbul. Yes, we made a few friends there. I think the city is in my top three.

Tumblr. So I've got a Twitter and I'm not a celebrity. I use it mainly when I'm bored or when I'm stalking people. It has words limit and I'm not exactly good with limits. I opened a Tumblr account a few days ago and maybe it's the novelty but I like it a lot. It feels more proper than Twitter but lighter than Blogspot. By having all these channels on the tip of my fingers, I feel complete. 

Milk. I asked for warm milk before my first nap and the man just put the carton on the gas heater. Creative but that's cheating! Now he's fast asleep next to me. He looks so quiet and distant. It's times like these that I start to imagine losing him and realise that I can't.

Istanbul. I will write about it later. When I'm a little more awake.

Today

Maybe it's the accumulated snow outside the door. Or maybe I should've let more sunlight through the window. Many actually fork out a lot of money for light therapy during winter as depression silently crawls into their system so for someone who has been living in a tropical climate for 24 years, I'm probably at greater risk.

The neighbours are so eerily quiet today. I'm starting to appreciate loud Malaysian neighbours. I'm also starting to think more about home. Home, as in Malaysia. Perhaps that's why I've been feeling so disconnected. Knowing that there are only 7 1/2 months left before I see KLIA again, I can't help but feel that time is moving rather slowly. Like a snail trying to cross a road and after so much effort with days and nights faithfully taking turns, realises that it's still halfway there. Melodramatic as usual.

Goofing around with the webcam has never been more... erm, soulless?

Thank goodness at least I'm not alone. If I were, light therapy may not sound so bad.

First of 2011

I'm a bad travel writer. I just can't put the whole thing into words and do them justice. At best, I try to take photos that reflect the ambience or emotion but there are moments that I inevitably miss. Those are only in my memory, struggling to be out but no perfect means to do so. Well at least friends in my Facebook circle are able to see the captions that I hope will give some life to the still photos. So this post, not intended to be a travel guide of some sort, is merely my personal thoughts as in most posts in my 4-year-old blog.

Barcelona:

The reason why people don't usually travel in winter is because the weather can be unpredictable and mean. Like what happened in Italy when our plane had to be diverted to another Venice airport due the poor visibility. When we landed, everyone applaused and cheered but that was just the beginning. We had to be transported from one airport to another and back again before it was considered safe to board the plane and jet off to Spain. We were half a day delayed.

Barcelona is so tropical that it immediately reminded me of Malaysia, especially when we kept having lots of colourful fruits for the two days we were there. Inside the Gothic Quarter however, it's really European with the narrow cobblestone streets and medieval architecture. La Sagrada Familia stands out the most. It even has its own website here so take a look if you're interested in knowing the story behind something so magnificent.

Amsterdam:

Bad luck again. We were already strapped into our seats when the pilot made an urgent annoucement for us to get off the plane as the oil was found leaking. Back to the terminal, the airline had to call a spare plane all the way from Luton to fetch us and that apparently took six hours in which most of us resorted to sleeping on the airport benches including yours truly. How long can you wander around the boarding area anyway? When we got to our hostel, it was almost two in the morning.

Now, the city is really romantic and interesting. People often compare it to Venice but personally, the legal prostitution in Red Light District and drugs everywhere else make it feel less romantic. Nonetheless, Amsterdam has its own character that's reflected by its quaint buildings and markets. The Spanish were generally warmer than the Dutch, but I suppose the weather does play a role.

Brussels:

Brussels is a typical European city which is not bad, considering that it's also the administrative centre of the European Union. An obvious feature is that the city has two faces: urban metropolis and historical town. Nothing much to elaborate but there seems to be an obsession in a urinating boy statue whose costume is changed several times a week. Doesn't make sense, does it? If you can pee in public, you won't really bother with having fancy clothes on. There are many legends behind this but I must say some of them sound so absurd. The people speak French so we got to use our rusty French.

And that's the end of our first backpacking trip of the year. We're heading to Istanbul next week so I can't eat any desserts this week to make room for a baklava galore!

Officially Stressed Out

We've just discovered that we have to get our Danish residence and work permits BEFORE going to Denmark. I thought the same procedure as before would apply. We got our French & Hungarian residence permits AFTER I've started school. To make things worse, a new fee has been introduced two weeks ago. If we had applied before that, we wouldn't have to pay six...hundred...Eu...ros! Yes, 600-oh-my-God-EUROS! I don't know how I can enjoy our backpacking trip to Barcelona, Amsterdam & Brussels this week when there's an urgent need to check my e-mails every single day to settle all this. Oh, including a missing recommendation form for my professor which is another topic altogether but with the same utmost priority. I'm also unable to work on my group project because I couldn't install the software and my limited mobile broadband doesn't allow me to access the remote desktop.  They probably think I'm a slacker. Sigh. I'm trying soooo hard not to get bogged down with these matters but it's even harder when they all depend on out-of-your-control external factors which is always the case in real life. 

c.h.e.s.s.a.l.e.e

But I'm a student! I'm not supposed to have real life. I have four free days every week and approximately four months off each year! Urgh. Be grateful Izni.

Take a Break...

...and have a Kit Kat! Sorry, I couldn't resist.

My New Year starts tomorrow, I don't care what the date is. No more late nights and freeze my brain to slow death as I sleep away the day. No more intense work that leads the road to burnout.

I am balanced.

I am balanced.

I am balanced.

I am soooo balanced.

And tonight, since I've worked hard enough that my back hurts so much, I will stop even though I haven't finished. I will go away right now, make myself a healthy light dinner of egg, potato, beans and orange juice, slump into my bed and watch a good movie.

Like the movie Black Swan. That was brilliant.

But that's not the point. My point is I'm uncomfortable with myself for being too lazy one minute and too industrious the next. I need to balance myself again. 

I need someone to massage my back, hmm... *looking at the man*

Pre-2011 Monologue

This is what I wrote exactly one year ago.

"...Four hours to midnight. Everyone's wishing each other on Facebook with such a thrill that I swear I could imagine them jumping up and down screaming their lungs out "HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!". There's going to be an awesome display of fireworks at the harbour here and the whole population of Nice is going to be there. Except for me and hubby. With the much glorified idea of a new year plus the joy of being in an intoxicated crowd, they're not really for me. It's just another year and I think people are just trying to find an excuse to go out and celebrate big. Which is not wrong, of course. It's just not for me. I'd rather stay home, cuddle up to hubby and watch some films while enjoying homemade Nutella crepes...and cookies & milk!..."

The only difference this year is we're in Budapest and instead of Nutella crepes and cookies, I'm having a half homemade cream cheese cake.