Lucrative City: Istanbul as a juicy contract

Sitting at the marina in Kalamış my feelings are far from the classic song that goes "we're here for sweet tranquility, in Kalamış, in Kalamış, ah in Kalamış."


I just had a fight with movers and fumed poisonous angst through my nose all the way here. Once seated, a chubby carrot-looking cat eased my worries and a kind man brought me a glass of freshly brewed tea. Do I love Istanbul? Suddenly, briefly, yes. But then I come to my senses. I look to my left: a series of boats sparkling white in quiet blue waters. To my right I need not look, the construction noise tells me that all these three story apartments are becoming high-rises, trees are being cut with the insouciance prerequisite for having never planted a tree or cared for a flower. 
Apartments without balconies… Why should anyone live in apartments without balconies...

Recently, when I took the Karaköy ferry from Kadıköy, my heart broke at the sight of paper cups in which tea was served. In the name of progress, Turkey has tamed itself to using individually wrapped sugar cubes, cutlery served in paper bags and so on… But drinking tea in glass teacups gazing into the Topkapı Palace, the seagulls, the minaret and damn me I stop here cause all this makes me think of this ridiculous promotional video:


So yes, I worried a little 'developing world worries'. You can take away so much from the city. You just can't take the glass teacups away from the ferry.

While the contractors were salivating over the lot where my parents' home used to be, on the other side of the Bosphore, the building where Refik and Serdar spent a decade and a half publishing the best photography magazine in Turkey and then created photography related projects (GApo wide angle project office) is being prepared for its run as yet-another-hotel-in-Taksim. Because I am a simpleton, I don't get it: if all the buildings turn into hotels, what will the tourists do? Look at each other?

Here's a little excerpt from what used to be the window of my office of one year chez GApo. 


To be continued...

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