Author: Milan

In the spring of 2005, I graduated from the University of British Columbia with a degree in International Relations and a general focus in the area of environmental politics. In the fall of 2005, I began reading for an M.Phil in IR at Wadham College, Oxford. Outside school, I am very interested in photography, writing, and the outdoors. I am writing this blog to keep in touch with friends and family around the world, provide a more personal view of graduate student life in Oxford, and pass on some lessons I've learned here.

Gay marriage back under debate

Most annoyingly, it seems that Canada’s Conservative Party is trotting out gay marriage, which is presently legal in Canada, for new Parliamentary debate.

As I have written before, Parliament does not have the right to stop gay people from getting married. The right to not suffer discrimination supersedes the authority of Parliament to legislate, by virtue of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. This is not a right that can be restricted in keeping with “reasonable limits prescribed by law as can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.” While the Notwithstanding Clause could be used to nullify that legality, doing so would be profoundly illiberal.

The whole thing is likely to be a vote-loser for the Tories, since even Canadians who have problems with gay marriage now generally consider the matter settled. Hopefully, the Tories will take some well-deserved flak for this political theatre and all parties will realize that they should leave the matter as it stands in the future.

My previous entries on this are here: 1 February 2006 and 3 June 2006.

Intercontinental crossings

Today’s boat trip involved bouncing back and forth between Europe and Asia while heading northwards up the Bosphorus. After less than two hours – spent watching passing ships, seagulls, and the countless jellyfish in the waters beside the ferry – we found ourselves at the northernmost village on the Asian side.

The place was well populated with tourists, despite there being only one ferry per day which pauses between about noon and 3:00pm to allow people to see the place. As the motors began to warm up at three, you could see many people in restaurants with ocean views hurrying to settle bills and put on coats. A hill overlooking the Black Sea contains the ruins of at least two generations of fortresses, while the town itself contained both more cats and more assault rifle toting soldiers than anywhere else I have seen in Turkey. As we ate lunch at a roadside cafe, at least five canvas-topped trucks full of them rumbled by. Clearly, the northern entrance to such a strait remains strategic.

Both in spite of and on account of the ever-present haze that sharply reduces visibility around Istanbul, I have some photos that I am excited about from the crossings. In particular, swooping sea birds in front of misted freighters and the clean lines of the two intercontinental suspension bridges should be attractive. I am reaching the point (with 120 images on my memory card and one roll of film shot), where I begin to worry about unexpected data problems. I wish I had some mechanism for putting them online now, but carrying my six pound and worry-inducing laptop around Turkey wasn’t really a good option.

Tomorrow, it seems we will be making a twelve hour journey to either Ephesis or Capadoccia, though the final decision remains to me made. Personally, I am quıte sure that Ephesis would be amazing, but it seems likely to emulate other Mediterranean spots fairly closely. Capadoccia, I expect, would be more specific to Turkey. Forgive my spellings if they are incorrect; both of those above have hundreds of Google hits, but no Wikipedia pages.

Notable domes of Istanbul

Today, my father and I took a guided tour around Istanbul’s most essential historical sites. The architecture itself was quite spectacular, though language problems and a certain lack of interest on the part of the guide, who did not seem to appreciate questions, made the tour itself less engaging than it might have been.

In the morning, we saw the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia, as well as the reasonably unremarkable expanse of the Hippodrome between them. It used to be a stadium, but nothing remains of it save a couple of pillars and an open area. The Blue Mosque was certainly impressive. The elegance and symmetry of the domes, coupled with that of the tiles and calligraphy, make it an inspiring structure. It is a great shame that they have chosen to hang electric lights from thick black cables descending all the way from the dome high above: they diminish the grandeur of the space.

The Hagia Sophia was the day’s most impressive site. Ancient and gloomy in feeling, the inescapable particulate matter of the air here creates sharp beams crossing the vast space. First an Orthodox church, then a mosque, and ultimately converted into a museum by Ataturk, the great domed structure also seems to have a history worthy of further examination. On account of the low light, I was glad for my two Pound mini-tripod. I suspect the photos from today will make me less annoyed that it broke (fixably, but not without tools) during the first couple of hours of real usage.

During the rest of the day, we peeked into the Grand Bazaar, failed to have carpets sold to us during a sponsored pause in the tour, and visited the Topkapi Palace. We also saw a lot of bad traffic and, last of all, the day’s most elegant structure, ın the form of the Suleymaniye Mosque. In better shape than the Blue Mosque, as well as farther off the normal tourist path, the interior is quite stunning, with an intriging interplay of colours and geometry. Despite the broken tripod, I am excited about the photos I took there.

The next task is to pick up some dinner, followed by meeting my cousin Ivanka at Ataturk Airport. Tomorrow, we will probably be heading up the Bosphorus to the Black Sea. My plan is to pretend that I am on the way to the Yalta Conference.

Herbivorous adventures

One notable feature of Istanbul are the men (invariably men) who stand in front of every stall, shop, and restaurant and try to convince passers-by that they should enter. They are always fairly energetic about it: sometimes bordering on the aggressive. That made the following exchange that much funnier:

Man outside kebab restaurant encourages us to come in, stressing how fine an eating experience we would have.

My father: “Do you have anything without meat? We’re vegetarians.” [Actually, it’s just me, but it’s kind of him to help.]

Kebab man, incredulously: “Why?,” said as though he has never heard a more mad idea.

Us: generally shrugging shoulders, rather than trying to explain.

Him: “Then, you must go to another restaurant.”

Now, they did have vegetarian items on the menu and, in my experience, not even a restaurant called the Steak and Burgers BBQ will actually tell you not to eat there, if you are vegetarian. My vegetarian friends have frequently been reassured over the phone, to later be presented with only salad and french fry options (the latter being only dubiously unrelated to the killing of animals). It makes for an odd contrast with the people who will follow you for a block, trying to sell you a hat in which you never expressed the slightest interest.

On another note, somebody on the tour that my father and I took today who learned, at lunch, that I was a vegetarian later asked to have his picture taken with me, on account of the fact. Odd experiences, in both cases.

Initial bearings established

The original version of this post was extinguished by a brief power failure that occurred as I was writing it.

I have spent the morning of my first day exploring the old city. It is quite impossible to miss the first two calls to prayer of the day: both happen before the hotel breakfast begins at 8:00am. I was the first one to partake in it (an aberration from my normal travel pattern) and to appreciate the elevated view of the Bosphorus, with deep orange light from the morning sun illuminating large container ships and tankers heading north to the Black Sea.

The Sultanahmet becomes comprehensible quite quickly, as you develop a general sense of orientation based on the location of the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the city walls, and the park full of soldiers that wraps around down towards the ferry landings at the entrance to the Golden Horn (Istanbul’s strategic natural harbour).

Between the ferry landings and the open space encompassing the old city’s two most famous monuments, there is a tangle of small commercial streets of impossible complexity. Appreciate the bustle, the appeals of touts, and the inexpensive street food, while maintaining as consistent a bearing as possible. Otherwise, you will probably start looping without entirely realizing it. Once you hit a big street with tram lines on it, follow it northwards (towards the strait) until you find yourself between the Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque. Knowing your bearings, with reference to this place (where any local or shopkeeper can direct you) seems the most intelligent approach to developing a working knowledge of Old Istanbul.

One nice thing about the city are the scores of wild cats, reminiscent of Rome but healthier looking. I have probably already seen one hundred today, and they are all quite elegant and intelligent looking. They are all also quite young: either a sign that they do not generally endure long, or perhaps that the youngest ones are the most visible. Probably ten percent of those I have seen are unmistakably kittens: most of them a mottle of ginger, brown, and white. While dogs seem to prefer the large, open spaces the cats are undeniably in charge of the alleyways.

I’ve only ducked into this cafe to provide better directions to the hotel to my father and cousin Ivanka, who will be joining us tomorrow. As such, I am off to find a nice spot to have a coffee and read, while I await my father’s arrival. Tomorrow, I suspect, will be given over to seeing the most interesting things that we would not feel obliged to re-visit with Ivanka on Wednesday.

From Sabiha Goklen airport to Old Istanbul (Sultanahmet)

The following is pragmatic information for the benefit of future travellers, rather than any sort of lyrical fırst impressıon of this fascinating city. Time constraints, hunger, and the strangeness of Turkish keyboards all interfere with my desire to relate such initial impressions.

My travel book, the 2003 Rough Guide to Turkey, speaks of only one airport in the cıty: Ataturk on the European side of the Bosphorus. EasyJet flies to a different airport: Sabiha Goklen, on the Asian sıde.

To get from the latter airport to Sultanahmet is not actually too difficult, but the means are non-obvıous:

Right outside the termınal, wait for a bus called Is Gunleri (İ am omitting all accents, on account of keyboard unfamiliarıty). The bus will cost more than two but less than three Lira, and you will not be given a ticket or receipt.

Take that bus all the way to Kadhkoy. This will take about 3/4 of an hour, based on modest traffic. At the end, you wıll reach a kınd of bus termınus beside many boat landıngs.

North of where the bus stops, look for a boat that costs 1.3 Lira and that advertises Karakoy as the destination. Take it across the straight, with its gorgeous but hazy views of the old city. Shortly after passing under a low bridge, get off at the first landing.

You are now near the Sirkeci Train Station, in the northern part of Sultanahmet. If you are like me, you will buy a pretzel – for strength – and then spent three whole hours searching for your hostel while admiring the complexity of the settıng, appreciating the beauty of the mosques, and exchanging wary glances with battle-scarred feral dogs.

Now, I really need to go get some dinner.

PS. As of today, Canadians needing an entry visa are being charged US$60. You need to have it in cash, and exact change, before you arrive in Turkey. UK citizens are being charged a more modest 10 Pounds.

PPS. You will never realize how often you use the letter ‘i’ until you try a Turkish keyboard.

And don’t lift up my head ’till the the twelve bells at noon

I am glad to see that Spirit of the West has been gaining in worldwide popularity. Almost every hour, for the last few days, I have seen people finding my site by searching for lyrics from their classing song “Home for a Rest.”

People tend to remember the chorus:

You’ll have to excuse me, I’m not at my best
I’ve been gone for a week
I’ve been drunk since I left
And these so-called vacations
Will soon be my death
I’m so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
Take me home….

The song is great fun, and a Canadian pub favourite. I was lucky enough to see Spirit of the West live on my nineteenth birthday, at the infamous Pit Pub, at the University of British Columbia.

Luton-bound in seven hours

The Turkey plan has become a phased one: I will be leaving early this morning, from Luton Airport, and arriving tomorrow afternoon in Istanbul. I am to establish a position in the hotel and conduct some initial reconnaissance. My father will join me in Turkey the next day, and the day after that my cousin Ivanka will be arriving. I think of myself as the beachhead force: probably not up for sustained deployment, without the development of a logistical trail, but capable of flexibility and willing to take opportunities that arise.

This will be my first ever visit to the Middle East, and likewise to Asia. Everybody stresses how Istanbul is a contrasting place: between old and new, between faiths and regions. It should be fascinating to explore. Those who have never seen an aerial view of Istanbul’s unique geography should do so, so as to better understand.

Loading up my 60L hiking pack for this kind of an expedition reminds me of the wonderful time I spent in Italy with Meghan Mathieson in 2004. While the social dynamics will obviously be different here, it should be enjoyable to engage in that sort of peripatetic tourism. My digital photos should be online by the 17th, at the latest, with photos shot on film (T-Max 400) to follow in a couple of weeks.

PS. Pre-trip preparation has also included the ceremonial “removing of the Amnesty International ‘Protect the Human’ pin from my backpack.” It’s probably not the wisest emblem to display in a country that still charges people criminally for reading poetry in public. That’s doubly true, as I need to get a visa at the airport on my way in.

Liberal conference concluded

So, Ignatieff is out. I knew nothing about the other candidates, so I cannot really say anything worthwhile. He may have made debate more interesting, but turning the Federal Liberal Party into a group that can win the next election is obviously foremost in the minds of supporters. Given the egregious environmental policies of the Harper government, I wish more power to them.

Taylor Owen knows more. So do Tim and Tristan. Doubtless, many more politically minded Canadian blogging friends of mine will weigh in soon. Who would have expected that to be such a substantial group?

I am off to bed, but please link additional relevant items in comments.

The Devil Wears Prada

It is necessary only for the good man to do nothing for evil to triumph.
-Edmund Burke

Through a combination of circumstances that was rather unusual, I ended up watching The Devil Wears Prada with my father at the Phoenix Cinema around midnight.

Prior to seeing the film, I never really understood the virulence with which some people and groups reject the superficiality and extravagance of capitalism. As a result of the film, I now feel more as though I understand the various revolutionaries of the twentieth century and before who sought to smash this wasteful and myopic parasite within society.

Thankfully, the film itself was probably a misrepresentation. In reality, those people with intelligence and resources must be concerned with the millions dying of AIDS, the dangers of nuclear war, increasing authoritarianism in Russia, climate change, and all the rest. Mustn’t they?