The next soft drink stand

There you go. Happy now?

Newspaper taxis appear on the shore, waiting to take you away.

Istikal Caddesi (Independence Avenue), between Taksim Square and Tünel, was known to foreign visitors during the 19th and early 20th century as Grande Rue de Péra * and was one of Istanbul's showpiece boulevards - the classic orient-meets-occident location. By the late 20th century it had become a grim, traffic-clogged street.

Now pedestrianized and given a facelift ("upmarket makeover"), it has become the main thouroughfare in Beyoglu's area of trendy cafes, bars and shops, including multinational chains, which attracts young middle class Turks and tourists.

Red trams of the "Nostaljik Tramvay" occasionally trundle through, clanging a bell to warn pedestrians as it shuttles the short distance between Taksim and Tünel, from where you can catch the funicular train up to the Galata Tower. Unfortunately, the tram driver's face is obscured by the reflection of a neon sign.

Handworkers are becoming increasingly rare on Istanbul's streets, so much so that the sight of this pedal-powered knifegrinder even turns the heads of locals.

I thought this shoe-shine man was also meditating, but he was just playing with his cell phone. The mobile phone has become the tamagotchi of the early 21st century: it's as if most of the people who have one are afraid that if they do not pay constant attention to it, it will die and their lives will be ruined.

Some people, myself included, hate having their photo taken. Some make a big fuss if they even see you with a camera. Surprisingly often though, people ask me if I will take a photo of them. I'm usually happy to be asked and pleased to oblige. But what's in it for them? Mostly they don't even give an address and will thus never even see the end result.

This happy group, in a poorer area near Istanbul's ancient walls, were just sitting on the street corner enjoying each others' company. Like all the people I have met in Istanbul, they were refreshingly friendly.

"If we were allowed to take a glance at only one point of the earth,
this would be the one to choose."

Raindance

"Getting and spending we lay waste our powers"

In most of the world's cities every available space is used for advertising. In Istanbul any available space is used to set up a shop. Wherever you go in the city, somebody is trying to sell something. It's always been like that here.

Another two of the people who wanted their photo taken. Once again, spontaneously friendly guys who seemed to be just enjoying being alive. It must have been something in the fresh spring air.

Over the last two decades Istanbul's population has swelled considerably as more people move here from all over Turkey to seek their fortune or just find work. The birth rate also means that Turkey as a whole and Istanbul in particular are demographically very young.

The economy has also picked up considerably, which has lead to an overall improvement in the city's infrastructure and living conditions. There is still inflation and poverty, but generally more people seem to have more money to spend than 20 years ago.

Dignity

In traditional communites families stick together. It may not always be ideal but it is the way it has always been: The old look after the young until the young are able to look after the old. It is the written and the unwritten law, underpinned by love, respect and an instinct for mutual protection. But the mass movement from agricultural to urban environments can turn the world on its head. Higher divorce rates, the gulf between generations and the pervasive sense of alienation in cities cause families to crumble.

So, who gives a damn about old people? Are they to be left to fend for themselves? Even in the so-called developed countries the hard fought for notion of pension rights is now under threat as the payouts fail to keep up with prices and the retirement age is pushed ever further beyond the discernable event horizon. How then are senior citizens in cities such as Istanbul supposed to survive when it's already tough when you are fit enough to work 12 hours a day?

Eradication

The scramble for "progress" and the prosperity of some has a high price for others.

These corrugated metal walls seal off the bulldozed wasteland which was once the ancient, colourful Gypsy district of Sulukule, from which many of its remaining 3,500 inhabitants have been forcibly evicted to make way for property development.

Some historians believe that Romany people arrived in Contantinople in the 11th century AD (as early as 1054). At first they lived in tents outside the Theodosian walls, but during the Ottoman period they began settling in houses in the Neslişah and Hatice Sultan areas which collectively became known as Sulukule (Water Tower).

The Roma have long used the land beneath the city walls for market gardening, and their produce, particularly the Romany lettuce, is popular all over Istanbul. Before its destruction, Sulukule had its own wells, fountains, bakeries and shops, and was in many ways a self-sufficient community with a strong mutual support ethic.

Roma families and settlements often have a single occupation-base, and while other Roma in Turkey specialize in trades such as basket-weaving, metal-working, horse-breeding or flower-selling, many of those in Sulukule became famous as entertainers: musicians, belly dancers, acrobats and illusionists. Sulukule cafes and entertainment houses here were popular amongst Istanbulers and tourists. However some also developed a dubious reputation, and in 1992 (following the collapse of the political left-wing, the rise of conservative-nationalist Islamism and consequent police raids) all were closed down by local authorities.

The closures led to unemployment and economic decline, which encouraged plans by conservative politicians and property speculators, who bought the land at low prices, to clear the area and build up-market condominiums in "Ottoman villa" style. Far too expensive for locals, the new development is set to become a yuppie enclave.

Plans were pushed ahead, enforced by new legislation and without consultation with the community, and the first mass demolitions began in early 2007. By the time of my last visit in April 2010 the destruction was almost complete, and on 6th May the mayor of the Fatih district (AKP, Justice and Development Party) laid the foundations for the first new building of the "Sulukule restoration project".

Sulukule's original inhabitants were offered alternative accomodation - upto 40 km outside Istanbul. The Roma themselves as well as many intellectuals and campaigners in Turkey and worldwide believe they are victims of discrimination and a deliberate plan to disperse and destroy their community. The politicians and police claim that Sulukule was a hotbed of child prostitution and criminality and in desperate need of restoration. If this is so, why did the local authorities make no investments or attempts to work with the community to restore the area physically, economically and morally over the last twenty years?

Was it all stick and no carrot? Did the AKP politicians condemn all the inhabitants of Sulukule and inflict a form of collective punishment on them? And why was Turkish Prime Minister and former Istanbul mayor Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (AKP) so committed "to clean the place up" like a Wild West sheriff? What was he afraid of exactly? And why do these Turkish citizens (who have lived here before Turkey existed) have no right to a say in their own future?

"Bismillah hir-Rahman nir-Rahim"

"In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate"

The religious invocation emblazoned on this restaurant boat is an echo of the prayers of sailors since time immemorial: a call for protection for "all those in peril on the sea".

The Galata Bridge which spans the Golden Horn between ancient Eminönü and Galata is a double-decker affair. The upper deck carries traffic and pedestrians as well as providing an excellent perch for anglers (you can see some of the rods and lines in the left of the photo). The lower deck is dedicated to restaurants and bars. Nearly all the establishments used to be traditional restaurants, mostly specializing in a wide variety of fish. These days anything goes as a new generation of enterpreneurs aim at enticing locals and foreigners to spend a while gazing over the Bosphorus while sipping a glass of çai (tea), a beer or a cocktail.

There are no end of cafes, bars and restaurants in Istanbul. The two largest concentrations are around Sultanahmet in old Istanbul and in Galata just across the Golden Horn. Galata has really boomed in recent years as new places of entertainment spring up like autumn mushrooms and young people are drawn by the new sense of brash freedom. Over in Sultanahmet the religious and political atmosphere is more conservative and alchohol is not sold in the vicinity of mosques, which are highly concentrated on the peninsula.

The nargile (water pipe, hubble-bubble) has made a big comeback among young Turks, and in the face of smoking bans, so-called shisha bars are opening all over the place, including in Turkish communities in Europe. Puffing the pipe was once the pastime of old men as they played tavli (backgammon) or dominoes in their smoky men-only cafes. Now they have become the trendy accessories of the young in slick modern lounges.

Within a minute of this kemenche player taking his seat in a doorway he had attracted a crowd of Istanbul citizens of all ages. They evidently knew well the plaintive traditional melodies he played and some began dancing quite unselfconsciously. In the middle of this enormous city of 12.8 million, a small group of strangers enjoyed a few spontaneous moments of shared intimacy.

His instrument is a Karadeniz Kemençesi (Black Sea kemenche, from the Persian Kamancheh "small bow") three-stringed bowed lyre (or lute), also known as the "kementche of Laz" or Pontic kemenche, in Greek κεμεντζές (kementzes) or λύρα (lyra). The bow is called a doksar, in Greek δοξάρι (doxari, bow).

Many ancient cities had quarters which specialized in particular trades, crafts and product types: metal, fabrics, leather, fruit and vegetables, spices, fish, meat... This kind of demarcation survived in European cities into the late twentieth century: think of Le Halles in Paris or Covent Garden, Billingsgate or Fleet Street in London. I remember a small area of Athens dedicated to the printing trade. Globalization and the rationalization of modern mass production and distribution methods put an end to many of these trade ghettos.

Where have all the bookshops gone? Into the world wide web every one. Well, almost. The convenience of ordering just about any book you desire online and have it delivered within a few days is an overwhelming temptation for any bibliophile. Amazon be praised!

But there's nothing like browsing a bookstore, handling those wonderful objects and getting a whiff of fresh printing ink in your nose; older books contain their own musty mysteries. I had to banish myself from bookshops for quite a while as I am pathologically incapable of visiting one without buying something (ditto record stores). Lucky for my bank balance that all but one of the bookshops in the area of Berlin where I live have long-since closed down.

Late night hunger

Well, that was a long day, wasn't it? And we certainly got around.
What shall we do tomorrow?

2. "The world ts too much with us"

From a sonnet by the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth (1770-1850), written about 1802, first published in Poems, In Two Volumes, 1807.