Day 1. Istanbul, Turkey.

This morning I woke up in Istanbul, went to a Christmas church service in The Netherlands, and then visited with some friends in Asia.

The church service was in Beyoglu, in Istanbul, held in a Dutch chapel on the Dutch consulate, technically in the Netherlands. There were 20 nations represented in the choir and we sang a number of classic Christmas songs.  Then we visited with some friends over on the Asian side of Istanbul.   Istanbul, incidentally, is the only city in the world that is on two continents.

The Beyoglu

Mid-afternoon today I felt like Robert Capa in Steinbeck’s A Russian Journal. Capa photographed the Soviet Union just after World War II and was constantly being censored, inspected, and barred from photographing things his anxious fingers were dying to shoot. Dorcas and Dave, friends of the family that I’m staying with here in Istanbul, visit a friend of theirs on a regular basis. Murtaza is a paraplegic, 49, who is living in a state-run facility. Twenty years ago he was a wrestler for Germany and Turkey when a freak-accident paralyzed him from the waste down.

Because of the sensitivity of the situation, mainly from the state, not from Murtaza, I was not permitted to take my camera in.

And I was dying. My hands were naked without my camera– my imagination was stirring and begging for a chance to openly roam the halls and capture the quiet, beautiful dignity of the people there, living in less then perfect conditions. The bright sun bursting through the long, pale, lime-green hallways. The interesting characters inside– Murtaza’s roommate, for example, an invalid, still plays the violin. But Murtaza especially– what a guy. Forty-nine years old, thin, with long, Rambo-style hair, a strong jaw, thick stubble, and pale but muscular arms, ranted and raved about Iraq, and Iran, and the Kurds, moving his arms around with frantic animation, but always with a smile and a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes.

After two glasses of tea, cookies, and chocolates with Murtaza and his roommates, we headed over to the Asian side of the city and spent several hours with Ismet and Nilgün. Ismet is Danish and Turkish born, and Nilgün is Turkish. We sat and talked and laughed and chatted about American politics, watched the pilot episode of the old show “Northern Exposure” and ate. And ate. And ate.  I had a cup of Turkish coffee (delicious) and platters of pastries, followed by a bowl of various nuts, and a couple cups of tea. By the time we left I had a stomach ache from all the delicious sweets.

It was a full day, though I didn’t get to spend much time photographing anything. Hopefully tomorrow will prove more fruitful.