OK, we don't actually know for sure, because as I've explained before, having the shits can be part of the experience of living in Turkey.
His return to school this morning prompted a conversation, and then some internet research, to see if swine flu (domuz gribi in Turkish) has come to Turkey.
On May 4th, in the southern city of Antalya, a panic broke out following the announcement that a patient of Akdeniz University Medical Center had died from swine flu. The Health Department was quick to issue statements to calm the populace. The kinds of statements you would expect from the government were issued: "The deceased had not traveled abroad, and preliminary tests on the body have yielded no evidence of the H1N1 virus. An autopsy will be performed, but as yet there has been no death due to swine flu."
Turns out, they were wrong. Start panicking.
People in Istanbul began panicking about swine flu two days ago. I need to catch up! An American traveler brought the disease through the Ataturk Airport sometime last week, and separately, a Korean traveler did as well. While yesterday, two cases were reported in Kadikoy, a busy ferry stop on the Asian side of Istanbul. One can only assume that it is now everywhere.
Special thanks to Mr. MacDaniel for bringing this pandemic to the desk abutting my own.
Showing posts with label disaster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disaster. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Apartment hunting...
Yesterday, my room mates and I went out searching for a new place to live. We haven't exactly cleaned up, since the party, and we decided that moving would get us away from the potato-chip-and-spilled-beer-vomit-cat smell, which presently seeps from under the refrigerator, but which we fear will migrate to the rest of the house. I'm most worried about this, because it'll come to my room first.
You'll have to forgive me, because I'm about to lay down the names of several Istanbul neighborhoods (in italics). There is a map, here, for those who would like to follow our adventure. The terminal locations are located about 5 km away from one another, close to the word Beşiktaş, in the center of your map.
We left the Rumeli Hisarüstü at about 4 in the afternoon, to see what we could see, Taksim and a bar with friends being the ultimate goal. Having listed some phone numbers, taken from a real estate website, we had a few places in mind when we started looking. Sahibinden.com is a good starting point, for those who are in the market. It translates to "from the owner", and we hoped using it would circumvent annoying real estate agent fees. I don't know how things are done in the states, because I never used a real estate agent there, but here in Istanbul, I pay someone to help me find a house.
I'll preface the peculiar afternoon with a quote from my room mate, although he didn't tell me this until the end of the day. "In Turkey, if you have no skills, you become a real estate agent."
Apartment hunting is a funny process, here, where people are so keen to sell you something you don't want, that they'll basically offer whatever crap they have and try to dress it up with words.
"Oh, don't worry, you can fit a bed in here."
"The last family just kept their refrigerator in the hallway."
"If you don't open this window, you don't have to worry about the trash falling in."
"If you want the windows to open, it won't be hard to chip off the paint."
'Lipstick on a pig', if I can use the hackneyed phrase.
The first place we wanted to see was in Mecidiyeköy, north of Şişli. After getting off the bus in the wrong place, we met the agent at a pleasant, neighborhood mosque, whence he led us on a ten minute walk to the apartment building. We never got a look at the place, however, because just as he put the key in the door, the owner of the market across the street shouted "it's sold." Without a word, the real estate agent went to talk to the man, and we slunk away, one failure in hand.
We hopped a taxi to Kurtuluş, near Osmanbey, with two other places specifically in mind.
There are three of us, grown men (-ish), looking for a place to room together. Despite that obvious fact, agents kept leading us into apartments with two, well-lit, comfortable bedrooms, and one small, dark room, which each of us would fight to not take. The first place was a bust, for that very reason, and so we called the agent for the last place on our list.
The agent led us into the belly of Kurtuluş, to a neighbohood that fits every American's image of a bombed-out Balkan city (Sarajevo, Belgrade, take your pick). After we climbed the stairs to the top floor, my meager excitement about the prospects were crushed...
The agent had the wrong key!
We trekked back down the stairs, and he offered to show us another place while he fetched the key. We must've walked for twenty minutes to his office, only to discover that the key was lost completely. No matter, he was able to show us another dirty two-and-a-half bedroom apartment, which left me feeling that real estate agents were inbred or retarded or both.
As it got dark, we wandered into one last agent's office. The office was big, double and triple the size of the others. There was an aquarium in the corner, carpets on the floor, big and comfy leather chairs, and two large desks. The office inspired confidence. The agent wasn't there, when we arrived, so we called the number on the door and he came in a few minutes. He ordered us tea, we chatted about what we do for work, we basically performed the ritual that begins all serious business in Turkey, and it led me to believe we would find something nice.
Before we started talking details, the agent told us he had the perfect place. One minute from the metro, top floor, 500 square feet, nice balcony, the place where three young bachelors want to live.
The only problem was a landlord, who was insistent that no single men would be living in the house.
So, strike three, and we are about to leave, when the agent suggested one last place, that was in the direction we were heading anyway. He dispatched a second agent, who had just shown up, to lead us, and we went together.
On our way, we passed the first agent's office, who politely inquired of our current leader, where we were heading. They spoke breifly, and in doing so established that we had already been shown the house we were about to visit, by the first agent.
We gave up, went to a restaurant in Şişli, and ate kebap and drank rakı and generally forgot about the crappiness of the afternoon. After that we headed to a gathering at a friend's home near Taksim. When we arrived, our hostess mentioned that two of the apartments in the building were available, and she even had the keys.
I had told my room mate, Emrah, that I would only really get interested in moving if we were moving to an interesting place. I wanted to be excited about the new apartment. In fact, the exact word I used were:
I'll post pictures when we get serious about moving there.
You'll have to forgive me, because I'm about to lay down the names of several Istanbul neighborhoods (in italics). There is a map, here, for those who would like to follow our adventure. The terminal locations are located about 5 km away from one another, close to the word Beşiktaş, in the center of your map.
We left the Rumeli Hisarüstü at about 4 in the afternoon, to see what we could see, Taksim and a bar with friends being the ultimate goal. Having listed some phone numbers, taken from a real estate website, we had a few places in mind when we started looking. Sahibinden.com is a good starting point, for those who are in the market. It translates to "from the owner", and we hoped using it would circumvent annoying real estate agent fees. I don't know how things are done in the states, because I never used a real estate agent there, but here in Istanbul, I pay someone to help me find a house.
I'll preface the peculiar afternoon with a quote from my room mate, although he didn't tell me this until the end of the day. "In Turkey, if you have no skills, you become a real estate agent."
Apartment hunting is a funny process, here, where people are so keen to sell you something you don't want, that they'll basically offer whatever crap they have and try to dress it up with words.
"Oh, don't worry, you can fit a bed in here."
"The last family just kept their refrigerator in the hallway."
"If you don't open this window, you don't have to worry about the trash falling in."
"If you want the windows to open, it won't be hard to chip off the paint."
'Lipstick on a pig', if I can use the hackneyed phrase.
The first place we wanted to see was in Mecidiyeköy, north of Şişli. After getting off the bus in the wrong place, we met the agent at a pleasant, neighborhood mosque, whence he led us on a ten minute walk to the apartment building. We never got a look at the place, however, because just as he put the key in the door, the owner of the market across the street shouted "it's sold." Without a word, the real estate agent went to talk to the man, and we slunk away, one failure in hand.
We hopped a taxi to Kurtuluş, near Osmanbey, with two other places specifically in mind.
There are three of us, grown men (-ish), looking for a place to room together. Despite that obvious fact, agents kept leading us into apartments with two, well-lit, comfortable bedrooms, and one small, dark room, which each of us would fight to not take. The first place was a bust, for that very reason, and so we called the agent for the last place on our list.
The agent led us into the belly of Kurtuluş, to a neighbohood that fits every American's image of a bombed-out Balkan city (Sarajevo, Belgrade, take your pick). After we climbed the stairs to the top floor, my meager excitement about the prospects were crushed...
The agent had the wrong key!
We trekked back down the stairs, and he offered to show us another place while he fetched the key. We must've walked for twenty minutes to his office, only to discover that the key was lost completely. No matter, he was able to show us another dirty two-and-a-half bedroom apartment, which left me feeling that real estate agents were inbred or retarded or both.
As it got dark, we wandered into one last agent's office. The office was big, double and triple the size of the others. There was an aquarium in the corner, carpets on the floor, big and comfy leather chairs, and two large desks. The office inspired confidence. The agent wasn't there, when we arrived, so we called the number on the door and he came in a few minutes. He ordered us tea, we chatted about what we do for work, we basically performed the ritual that begins all serious business in Turkey, and it led me to believe we would find something nice.
Before we started talking details, the agent told us he had the perfect place. One minute from the metro, top floor, 500 square feet, nice balcony, the place where three young bachelors want to live.
The only problem was a landlord, who was insistent that no single men would be living in the house.
So, strike three, and we are about to leave, when the agent suggested one last place, that was in the direction we were heading anyway. He dispatched a second agent, who had just shown up, to lead us, and we went together.
On our way, we passed the first agent's office, who politely inquired of our current leader, where we were heading. They spoke breifly, and in doing so established that we had already been shown the house we were about to visit, by the first agent.
We gave up, went to a restaurant in Şişli, and ate kebap and drank rakı and generally forgot about the crappiness of the afternoon. After that we headed to a gathering at a friend's home near Taksim. When we arrived, our hostess mentioned that two of the apartments in the building were available, and she even had the keys.
I had told my room mate, Emrah, that I would only really get interested in moving if we were moving to an interesting place. I wanted to be excited about the new apartment. In fact, the exact word I used were:
Emrah, I want to live in an apartment that gives me a hard-on every time I come home, that gives a girl a hard-on when she visits, that gives all of my friends hard-ons when we are sitting around the TV playing Mortal Kombat.This was that place, and I had a hard-on for it.
I'll post pictures when we get serious about moving there.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
This seemed apt...
... hopefully, folks will forgive the language. I heard this here in Turkey, and the "n" word sometimes gets thrown around by Turks who have no idea of the baggage it carries. I figure, they wrote the joke, so it's a little dishonest to rephrase the thing.
If it's true, all I can say is, way to go, 'Red, White, and Blue'.
To avoid appearing a Rusky-phile, I'll add that Putin's idea of a measured response to conflict is, well, so much like Israel's that it confounds all notions of justice. I reckon Saakashvili got more than he bargained for, but it's all pretty complicated.
In high school, I remember studying a little-known kid named Gavrilo Princip, who somehow managed to spark The Great War by assassinating Franz Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria. Beats the hell out of your best college prank. Chopping the history lecture down to size, EVERYBODY in Europe, and a number of others, decided to get involved in one of the largest land-grabs since the Oklahoma Land Run of 1889.
Quite a few parties involved, and a whole lot of oil, gas, and other stuff. Looks like we're getting ready to see how much like the 20th century we can make our 21st.
A new agent was brought into Langley for training by the CIA. The program took years, and cost millions, as the agent was trained for all possible mission circumstances: jungle and arctic warfare, high an low elevation para trooping, airplane and helicopter flight, deep sea diving, Russian, Ukrainian, Kazakh, and Polish.Reading this article, I remembered the joke...
Weeks of his training emphasized the history and geography of Moscow. The agent became an expert in the Kremlin, and needed to be, as he would be a covert operative in the heart of Soviet Union. Studying maps, local stories and anecdotes, he was prepared to appear a native of Moscow, born and raised, and to reside in the city for five years.
The insertion itself was dangerous, involving (surprisingly) both a submarine and a high altitude jump. After his arrival in Moscow, the operative met his contacts, settled into his safe house, and took his first week to explore the city, finding it just as he had been trained to.
After receiving orders for his first mission, the agent stopped into a local pub, known as a gathering place for intelligence personnel from various agencies. It was a good place to get information.
The agent went to the bar and ordered a vodka, in fluent Russian. Striking up a conversation as the keep poured his drink, he felt confident that he would begin to glean information about the patrons. Setting down the vodka, the bar keep stopped the agent mid-sentence.
"Look, if you want to talk with your KGB friends, go over there, table is in the corner."
The agent was dumbstruck. "How did you recognize that I'm an agent?"
Cleaning out a glass, the bartender looked at him, "Your Russian is fluent, you know city and culture well. Only, we have not a lot of niggers in Moscow."
If it's true, all I can say is, way to go, 'Red, White, and Blue'.
To avoid appearing a Rusky-phile, I'll add that Putin's idea of a measured response to conflict is, well, so much like Israel's that it confounds all notions of justice. I reckon Saakashvili got more than he bargained for, but it's all pretty complicated.
In high school, I remember studying a little-known kid named Gavrilo Princip, who somehow managed to spark The Great War by assassinating Franz Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria. Beats the hell out of your best college prank. Chopping the history lecture down to size, EVERYBODY in Europe, and a number of others, decided to get involved in one of the largest land-grabs since the Oklahoma Land Run of 1889.
Quite a few parties involved, and a whole lot of oil, gas, and other stuff. Looks like we're getting ready to see how much like the 20th century we can make our 21st.
Monday, July 14, 2008
It was a busy week last week...
There's not a lot that I worry about in Istanbul. There are worries, that are often discussed over beer with good friends, but I don't walk around Istanbul scared that any of the below list will actually victimize me. Rather, I take an academic interest in these potential disasters, because they always seem inevitable. The inevitability of the event has nurtured a desire to witness it, a desire to share with Istanbullu (Istanbul natives) the experience and a part of the collective memory. I'm not saying I want to be where it happens, and certainly not suffer from it, but I do want to know more about the event and learn of it through talking with Istanbullu. This might be a journalistic impulse, or that of the oral historian, or plain dumb, but I'd be lying if I denied it.
So, I'm miffed that my exile in Ankara condemned me to miss three out of the five on the list.
Top Five Lurking, Completely Random, and Imminent Fears of Sean Cox in Istanbul:
5. Getting stabbed by a glue-sniffer.
On a scale of 1-17 (as a good friend used to say), 1 being the least likely and 17 the most likely, I project the odds that I may be attacked by a crazy person sniffing glue at about a 4 (though with the present state of unemployment and political disenfranchisement, this number is likely to rise). This is the only thing I ever really worry about in Istanbul, and usually I keep an eye out to avoid situations where I might bump into people high on inhaled household products.
4.5 Blindness from drinking bad Rakı
I only worry about this when I'm drinking suspicious tasting rakı, the anise-flavored alcohol that is oh-so-good with fish and cheese. A few years ago, a moon-shine rakı was "accidentally" bottled by YeniRakı, a major producer of the stuff. A number of people died and several were struck blind. Like I said, it's only a worry when the restaurant you're in runs out of the quality stuff, and instead brings you their "special brew" in a fish bowl from behind the bleach on the counter.
4. Terrorism
Terrorism is a funny concept, and one I generally struggle to wrap my mind around. Depending on who you are and your intentions when you kill innocent people, you are a terrorist. If you attack police, military, jandarm, armed contractors, paramilitaries, or spies, you are also a terrorist (the same is not true of them if they attack you or innocent people). I could lump terrorism in with number two, because the tactics are similar and the experiences at the business end of it are basically the same. It makes me sad, but Turks seem to accept that armed groups (government/military affiliated or ideologically driven) will employ terror against random and unsuspecting civilians, in order to make a point. In any event, I never fear that this will happen to me in Turkey. The glue-sniffers pose a more realistic threat.
3. Tanker Ship Collision in the Bosphorus
The fear is not so much the collision itself, as what might happen to the contents of the tanker involved. Petroleum or chemical products may explode. Other chemical products may seep out and cause illness or death. A major tear in the side of the tanker may enable the glue-sniffing terrorists inside to escape and go on a rampage through the city. You get the picture.
2. Military Coup
This is higher on the list for two reasons. First, I think it more likely to directly affect me than anything else previously listed. Second, if it did happen, it would be way more interesting (for "interesting", read adventure-provoking) than most things previously listed. At least, one thinks so. In reality, it may just mean I take several days off work and have to buy my groceries at a certain time of day. Everybody I know on the political left would probably be detained, so I wouldn't have anyone to drink with. I imagine it would be a period of prolonged boredom, similar to what one experiences when living in Ankara.
1. Earthquake
This is something I think about on a weekly basis. Istanbul sits along the North Anatolian fault line, and has been struck by devastating earthquakes 12 times since the 5th century. The 1,000 mile long, strike-slip fault, transfers pressure from west to east, moving the epicenters of earthquakes along the fault and steadily closer to Istanbul over the years. The last major disaster on the fault, in 1999, leveled the nearby town of İznik, killed nearly 20,000 people, and scared the dickens out of Istanbullu, many of whom spent the next several weeks camping out in the streets. With little (or no) preparation on the part of the Turkish government, this disaster, when it comes, will be one of Biblical proportions.
So, to my chagrin, last week there was a derailed coup attempt, a shooting at the US consulate, and a tanker collision with a public park. All I could do was read the newspapers, which proved better at being retarded (and misleading) than writing informative articles. I refer you to the Turkish Daily News' headline from Friday, Al-Qaeda Linked to Istiniye Attack. Al-Qaida was not merely not involved, but they ran a headline based on speculation... probably a police officer saying, "Al-Qaeda is a terrorist group, maybe they could have done this." I guess it sells papers.
Each of these events probably deserves it's own post... and I'll try to get around to that. With disaster befalling the city I love, I busied myself with a trip to Hattuşaş, the ancient Hittite capital. It made for a lovely weekend.
So, I'm miffed that my exile in Ankara condemned me to miss three out of the five on the list.
Top Five Lurking, Completely Random, and Imminent Fears of Sean Cox in Istanbul:
5. Getting stabbed by a glue-sniffer.
On a scale of 1-17 (as a good friend used to say), 1 being the least likely and 17 the most likely, I project the odds that I may be attacked by a crazy person sniffing glue at about a 4 (though with the present state of unemployment and political disenfranchisement, this number is likely to rise). This is the only thing I ever really worry about in Istanbul, and usually I keep an eye out to avoid situations where I might bump into people high on inhaled household products.
4.5 Blindness from drinking bad Rakı
I only worry about this when I'm drinking suspicious tasting rakı, the anise-flavored alcohol that is oh-so-good with fish and cheese. A few years ago, a moon-shine rakı was "accidentally" bottled by YeniRakı, a major producer of the stuff. A number of people died and several were struck blind. Like I said, it's only a worry when the restaurant you're in runs out of the quality stuff, and instead brings you their "special brew" in a fish bowl from behind the bleach on the counter.
4. Terrorism
Terrorism is a funny concept, and one I generally struggle to wrap my mind around. Depending on who you are and your intentions when you kill innocent people, you are a terrorist. If you attack police, military, jandarm, armed contractors, paramilitaries, or spies, you are also a terrorist (the same is not true of them if they attack you or innocent people). I could lump terrorism in with number two, because the tactics are similar and the experiences at the business end of it are basically the same. It makes me sad, but Turks seem to accept that armed groups (government/military affiliated or ideologically driven) will employ terror against random and unsuspecting civilians, in order to make a point. In any event, I never fear that this will happen to me in Turkey. The glue-sniffers pose a more realistic threat.
3. Tanker Ship Collision in the Bosphorus
The fear is not so much the collision itself, as what might happen to the contents of the tanker involved. Petroleum or chemical products may explode. Other chemical products may seep out and cause illness or death. A major tear in the side of the tanker may enable the glue-sniffing terrorists inside to escape and go on a rampage through the city. You get the picture.
2. Military Coup
This is higher on the list for two reasons. First, I think it more likely to directly affect me than anything else previously listed. Second, if it did happen, it would be way more interesting (for "interesting", read adventure-provoking) than most things previously listed. At least, one thinks so. In reality, it may just mean I take several days off work and have to buy my groceries at a certain time of day. Everybody I know on the political left would probably be detained, so I wouldn't have anyone to drink with. I imagine it would be a period of prolonged boredom, similar to what one experiences when living in Ankara.
1. Earthquake
This is something I think about on a weekly basis. Istanbul sits along the North Anatolian fault line, and has been struck by devastating earthquakes 12 times since the 5th century. The 1,000 mile long, strike-slip fault, transfers pressure from west to east, moving the epicenters of earthquakes along the fault and steadily closer to Istanbul over the years. The last major disaster on the fault, in 1999, leveled the nearby town of İznik, killed nearly 20,000 people, and scared the dickens out of Istanbullu, many of whom spent the next several weeks camping out in the streets. With little (or no) preparation on the part of the Turkish government, this disaster, when it comes, will be one of Biblical proportions.
So, to my chagrin, last week there was a derailed coup attempt, a shooting at the US consulate, and a tanker collision with a public park. All I could do was read the newspapers, which proved better at being retarded (and misleading) than writing informative articles. I refer you to the Turkish Daily News' headline from Friday, Al-Qaeda Linked to Istiniye Attack. Al-Qaida was not merely not involved, but they ran a headline based on speculation... probably a police officer saying, "Al-Qaeda is a terrorist group, maybe they could have done this." I guess it sells papers.
Each of these events probably deserves it's own post... and I'll try to get around to that. With disaster befalling the city I love, I busied myself with a trip to Hattuşaş, the ancient Hittite capital. It made for a lovely weekend.
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