The Streets of Istanbul

It is a new morning and we rise to look out over the foggy and wet roof tops and streets of Istanbul.  The sounds of sirens and the call to prayer rise to our apartment and we prepare for a new day.  Morning prayers and scriptures coupled with the constant search in the kitchen for something that seems like breakfast.  Always there is fruit cause the fruit here is inexpensive and plentiful.  Oranges or portacalar are 2.2 pounds (1KG) for 0.99TL or 56 cents.  Thats right, about 28 cents per pound.

I settle for an egg on a tortilla with a little cheese and a smear of Kofta (some sort of spread with peppers and chick peas).  I have given up on the strange pink meat and sausage does not seem to exist or we have yet to find it.  If I were not in my underwear, I may go out for an egg mcmuffin down the street, but i would be disappointed cause it would not taste the same so I'll eat Kofta spread egg.

We have received many an inquiry regarding the bombing in Ankara and the murder of the New York woman in Istanbul.  Ankara is the capital of Turkey and located 8 hours by bus away and the murder is unfortunate, but we do not feel the least bit concerned.  For the most part, the people are gentle and kind.  The only issue is when they get in a car or bus or walk down the street.  Then it is every man for himself.
A taxi driver will give no ground.  They will literally run over the curb and go wrong directions.  The generally accepted thought is that if they do not look at you, then you do not exist.  The sidewalk is the final alternative for driving where you need to go.  A pedestrian is invisible and remember at any corner a motorcycle will come around the bend on the sidewalk going the completely opposite direction so beware.  On foot you have no right.

No place to park, no problem, just park across the entire sidewalk.  Note the narrow road in front of this parked car.  Hardly wide enough for a car and so if you want to walk, you have to go into the street, but be careful who knows what will come barreling up the hill.  No way can the sense of confusion be depicted in a photo.

These are the devil bikes.  Delivery motorcycles bringing anything from pizza to a drink from McDonalds to every portal of the city.  And the food must go through, on the sidewalk, wrong way on a street or one way street, across median strips or what ever.  Every outlet has a delivery service and we can not imagine how many more people would be on the streets if they all went out to get their hamburger from Burger King.

More convenient than using the actual road and certainly shorter than waiting for the light to allow use of the normal road.  Anyway if he were not on the motorcycle, he really is a pedestrian anyway right?

 Local boys at the Galata Bridge.  I was shooting a picture of the fishermen and these guys wanted to have their picture taken.  Originally there were six boys and then just before I took the shot, three ran away.  When these three looked at the picture the other three came back and wanted to now be in the picture, but these guys refused so we shook hands and they practiced their english and laughed like crazy.

Fishing from the Galata Bridge.  This is the most famous of all bridges in Istanbul.  It crosses the Hallic or in english, the golden horn, creating the peninsula of the old city bounded by the golden horn, the Bosphorus Straight and the Sea of Marmara.  They fish here night and day.  Catching all sorts of stuff.

On a bus heading to Eminunu.  This was a secret shot of the "woman without a face".  This is the Turkish Burka.  A triangle showing part of the nose and the eyes.  The headscarf is pinned right at the nose.  This woman had three children, a real rarity.   The phrase "woman without a face", comes from the Russians description of the veiled women.

The poverty within the city.  A view from a bridge looking down at a building ready to collapse.  See the woman in blue in the doorway and the sheep in the yard.  I wish I had a wide angle shot of this disaster.  Reminds me of the tale of the man living in a crooked house.

Looking out over the Golden Horn to the North.

Another Baptism.  Zeynep Gurcan.  A 23 year old lawyer from Turkey.  She is what one would call the Golden One.  She is amazing.  Speaks english and turkish and is just a great blessing.  The sacrifice to be baptized in this country is beyond reason.  She was baptized Feb. 9 in our little swimming pool in the upper balcony of the church.

Our chapel in Levent.  Note the yellow hose going up the side.  That is the fill line to the baptismal font on the third floor.  You can just barely see the top edge of the swimming pool.  A blue sky day.