Istanbul My Love

by erdinc (12/24/2005)

Istanbul My Love

Istanbul, the place where Europe sits next to Asia, and the poor next to the rich and the sophisticated to the simple and the beautiful to the ugly. So many people have come here to this endless city for a better life; so many of them with big expectations. Never rejected Istanbul them. She was like a beautiful woman who doesn’t know how to say “no”. Sometimes, maybe she was a little too promising and sometimes maybe a little too indifferent.

 

If Istanbul were a woman one could tell she knows how to have fun, that’s for sure my friend. But she doesn’t seem to know how many broken hearts she left behind. Also she doesn’t seem to care much. If Istanbul were a woman you could never satisfy her, that’s for sure. Istanbul, a city of huge ups and downs, one could tell. People; the ordinary people on streets; the little man you come across on shops, on bus stops or in crowded buses going to work in the early mornings, or trying to go home in the evenings; these people can tell you Istanbul.

 

There were so many things you wanted to do; maybe there were a few more things you wanted to have. There were a few moments you felt very happy and lots of moments you were sad and there was always the rush like time never was enough. The little boys and girls who have started working early in their young ages will tell you Istanbul. The factory workers, you can recognise from their big dirty hands will tell you.

 

Some people said Istanbul was a place where life never stops; maybe a city of young professionals who enjoy going out on nights. But it isn’t my friend, it isn’t. Everyone wanted a better life. I’m sure the young people working in the bakery on a hot summer day wanted a better life. The old shoe repairman working in a tiny shop maybe wanted a better life; I think he could speak for hours if you would ask him. I’m sure the boys, who had to quit primary school early and soon ended up working in a car repair shop, wanted a better life. It will take time but Istanbul will teach them how to calm down and how to accept life as it is.

 

Next time when you go to Istanbul, look at two old men having a chat on a narrow road. "Ne var ne yok?" one will say, and "Vallahi ne olsun" the other will tell, "Yaþayýp gidiyoruz iþte".

 

You will see the deep lines on people’s faces. People will talk a lot. They will talk a lot about anything. About all the unnecessary things they will talk for hours. But about the things they actually want to talk, they will never do. Many have learned how not to care too much and how to be still happy among so much unhappiness. People will still smile where you would never expect them. Maybe the poverty you can see on every corner is the soul of this city which makes her so much more real.

 

Has time passed very fast? Maybe you wanted life to be different. Maybe there were still things you would like to do but now it was too late. Istanbul, my friend is a story an old man likes to start as "there were times...”

 

I don’t know much about Istanbul and I don’t want to know much. I just know a bit about the people living in Istanbul. Istanbul, a story of happiness and sadness, is only as real as a sad memory in a child’s mind. You could easily forget about it.

 

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