Ken lost an eye and is held upright by a string around his neck. Barbie's dangling above her prayer mat donning the Virgin Mary.
Other than that, the Kurds got style, mostly purple.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
purple, this season's mattel.
Barbie and Ken in Urfa.
Ken lost an eye and is held upright by a string around his neck. Barbie's dangling above her prayer mat donning the Virgin Mary.
Other than that, the Kurds got style, mostly purple.
Ken lost an eye and is held upright by a string around his neck. Barbie's dangling above her prayer mat donning the Virgin Mary.
Other than that, the Kurds got style, mostly purple.
kapadokya [or] land of the dog's severed fist
Apparently, the landscape of Cappadochia was formed when a volcano named Erciyes Dağı erupted.
I let dusk settle on that story and manifested a new one.
Namely, being under pursuit. It was rather easy to assume whilst ambling around the landscape's dramatic and barren topography.
The notion was further validated by the apparently seamless stealth of the operation. No signs of life.
I questioned the atmosphere, wondered if I needed a mask.
I queried the state of my resources and weaponry. Bottled water provided by now inaccesible commercial netherworld; blunt swiss army knife, squash husks.
My ideas were not informed by rhetoric, but carvings. They proved to narrow my umbrella mood of loose associative fear, and classified my threat under cannibalism. Brilliant.
In conjunction with the barbarian ideas of cannibalism, these landscape edifices led to the second devistating epiphany:
a totalitarian society run be a king with five phallic arms. Who, during his thirty year reign, often reverted to 'emergency law'; i.e. his personal gluttony of human consumption.
I desired to seek shelter in a mountain abode that alluded underwater coral.
But feared my fellow man.
The king, who had a short penchant for puzzles, found the deceptive portals infuriating, for they often remained hollow and antagonized his relentless hunger.
[My hunger was dependent on purveyors far beyond this array of rocks standing in frozen deferral...
in the now unreachable, potentially evaporated, town.]
*******************
The name "Kapadokya" means "cap of the dog's severed fist."
The dogs defended the people and the king cut off their paws.
The phallus and the paws, towers in the sky.
All such romantic history.
************************
A rather spurious diversion.
I suppose it much simpler to assume the enchantment of the township sustained by touristic fervour, where one can buy an ashtray that looks like coagulated glycerine (rock approximations),
and imbibe the red rose autumn burn.
I let dusk settle on that story and manifested a new one.
Namely, being under pursuit. It was rather easy to assume whilst ambling around the landscape's dramatic and barren topography.
The notion was further validated by the apparently seamless stealth of the operation. No signs of life.
I questioned the atmosphere, wondered if I needed a mask.
I queried the state of my resources and weaponry. Bottled water provided by now inaccesible commercial netherworld; blunt swiss army knife, squash husks.
My ideas were not informed by rhetoric, but carvings. They proved to narrow my umbrella mood of loose associative fear, and classified my threat under cannibalism. Brilliant.
In conjunction with the barbarian ideas of cannibalism, these landscape edifices led to the second devistating epiphany:
a totalitarian society run be a king with five phallic arms. Who, during his thirty year reign, often reverted to 'emergency law'; i.e. his personal gluttony of human consumption.
I desired to seek shelter in a mountain abode that alluded underwater coral.
But feared my fellow man.
The king, who had a short penchant for puzzles, found the deceptive portals infuriating, for they often remained hollow and antagonized his relentless hunger.
[My hunger was dependent on purveyors far beyond this array of rocks standing in frozen deferral...
in the now unreachable, potentially evaporated, town.]
*******************
The name "Kapadokya" means "cap of the dog's severed fist."
The dogs defended the people and the king cut off their paws.
The phallus and the paws, towers in the sky.
All such romantic history.
************************
A rather spurious diversion.
I suppose it much simpler to assume the enchantment of the township sustained by touristic fervour, where one can buy an ashtray that looks like coagulated glycerine (rock approximations),
and imbibe the red rose autumn burn.
Konya
I query: would a whirling dervish birthday candle melt through the hat?
From this vantage point Konya appears to be abandoned landing point of malignant rodents of the galaxy.
Oh from here, like a field of painted gravestones reminiscent of speciality birthday candles with edible icing.
[end idiomatic perceptions of no informative breadth]
In actuality Konya is home to the whirling dervish order, a historical limb of mystical sufism whose current prominence is elusive to me.
This painting and the mannequins in the Mevlana museum are certainly still in practice, the latter being where they erected this fabulous turquoise top.
And later, by a different hand of man, some death marked power boxes in the same hue.
The city's devout to the point where the trajectory of foot traffic on the road actually reassesses itself towards a mosque as per the call to prayer.
I, to admire the geometrical masterworks of the Alaadin Camii.
It was a lovely little amble.
But I fled town as to avoid being entranced to head down at repeat intervals of the day for a staring contest WITH THIS, which could have imperceptibly resulted in the overthrowing of my soul to the omnipotent.
A marvelous slab, really.
From this vantage point Konya appears to be abandoned landing point of malignant rodents of the galaxy.
Oh from here, like a field of painted gravestones reminiscent of speciality birthday candles with edible icing.
[end idiomatic perceptions of no informative breadth]
In actuality Konya is home to the whirling dervish order, a historical limb of mystical sufism whose current prominence is elusive to me.
This painting and the mannequins in the Mevlana museum are certainly still in practice, the latter being where they erected this fabulous turquoise top.
And later, by a different hand of man, some death marked power boxes in the same hue.
The city's devout to the point where the trajectory of foot traffic on the road actually reassesses itself towards a mosque as per the call to prayer.
I, to admire the geometrical masterworks of the Alaadin Camii.
It was a lovely little amble.
But I fled town as to avoid being entranced to head down at repeat intervals of the day for a staring contest WITH THIS, which could have imperceptibly resulted in the overthrowing of my soul to the omnipotent.
A marvelous slab, really.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Skate Antalya
(Antalya kay-kay)
I was returning to (what I decided was) the prime establishment of vegetarian cuisine in Antalya for a final meal before assuming the night bus, when I noticed something I managed to overlook previously en route to culinary consumption.
Having become highly qualified at interacting with myself; this is the internal dialogue that followed:
Tara: Is that...a skate shop?
Arat: obviously - have you failed to establish the modernity of the city, the liberal air, the...
Tara: ...yes yes yes, but I didn't think -
Arat: ...all such noise had already birthed a skate scene and an establishment to support it?
Tara: So much conviction in your aptitude; but, I suppose so; yes.
Arat: but check it, it's manifest.
Yes yes yes; it truly was. Ercan, the guy responsible for it all; who opened the shop in Antalya four months ago.
The next thing I know I spent the next week in Turkey skateboarding.
I met Ercan from Berlin (left, different from the first) behind the counter when I first found the store. He took an array of these photos with his far superior camera.
I forget the other kids name though we often called him Steve-o; reminiscent in appearance although this kid is of far higher integrity.
He's still in highschool and him and his friends can shred.
Steve-o talked cordially to the security guard at the below location pleading that his uncle was active in the government and until they built a skatepark in Antalya he said we could skate here.
It bought us a good half hour.
Steve-o and his girlfriend - she's seventeen and has been skating for three months. This pumped my heart full of joy.
Cengis listened to Philip Glass on my iPod for half an hour while we all drank on a cliff overlooking the marina. I wısh I could communicate with him verbally.
A parthenon-esque powerslide plate.
old-skool.
oh Antalya,
[figure a]
[figure b]
how you blossomed out of yourself.
Wherever to go from here.
konya, I suppose - amplify the juxtaposition.
[ollie and out]
I was returning to (what I decided was) the prime establishment of vegetarian cuisine in Antalya for a final meal before assuming the night bus, when I noticed something I managed to overlook previously en route to culinary consumption.
Having become highly qualified at interacting with myself; this is the internal dialogue that followed:
Tara: Is that...a skate shop?
Arat: obviously - have you failed to establish the modernity of the city, the liberal air, the...
Tara: ...yes yes yes, but I didn't think -
Arat: ...all such noise had already birthed a skate scene and an establishment to support it?
Tara: So much conviction in your aptitude; but, I suppose so; yes.
Arat: but check it, it's manifest.
Yes yes yes; it truly was. Ercan, the guy responsible for it all; who opened the shop in Antalya four months ago.
The next thing I know I spent the next week in Turkey skateboarding.
I met Ercan from Berlin (left, different from the first) behind the counter when I first found the store. He took an array of these photos with his far superior camera.
I forget the other kids name though we often called him Steve-o; reminiscent in appearance although this kid is of far higher integrity.
He's still in highschool and him and his friends can shred.
Steve-o talked cordially to the security guard at the below location pleading that his uncle was active in the government and until they built a skatepark in Antalya he said we could skate here.
It bought us a good half hour.
Steve-o and his girlfriend - she's seventeen and has been skating for three months. This pumped my heart full of joy.
Cengis listened to Philip Glass on my iPod for half an hour while we all drank on a cliff overlooking the marina. I wısh I could communicate with him verbally.
A parthenon-esque powerslide plate.
old-skool.
oh Antalya,
[figure a]
[figure b]
how you blossomed out of yourself.
Wherever to go from here.
konya, I suppose - amplify the juxtaposition.
[ollie and out]
aegean ambles
I spent a week skirting down the Aegean Coast. It provided me with an abundance of bus travel and resultant reading time while otherwise injecting me with relative disdain for the endeavour.
In the small harbour town of Ayvalik highlights included a really friendly guy at the büfe that served me çorba (soup) every few hours for a day and a half. In Fethiye I bought a postcard with a painted representation of Ataturk, the coin I paid with dropped into the sewer shortly after it left my possession.
Selçuk, whilst a dusty town, wins for being surrounded by historical epics dating back to the Hellenistic period; sometime before BC tipped its hat to AD and Greece was still at the helm.
The remains of the Basilica of St. John hung like a little power plant on the horizon and centered around a rather epic baptistery carcus that appeared like the jigsaw shuffle of a cross.
3 km beyond is Ephesus, the sprawling remains of a city built by the Greeks and eventually taken over by the Romans, dating back to 10th century BC and becoming the second largest city of the Roman Empire after Rome.
I entered at the opposite side of the tour buses and often felt charged like a pin by a wave.
On my last night in Selcuk we drank Turkey's ubiquitous Efes beer and talked of rearraging world maps. I contimplated moving Canada into the Indian Ocean.
In the small harbour town of Ayvalik highlights included a really friendly guy at the büfe that served me çorba (soup) every few hours for a day and a half. In Fethiye I bought a postcard with a painted representation of Ataturk, the coin I paid with dropped into the sewer shortly after it left my possession.
Selçuk, whilst a dusty town, wins for being surrounded by historical epics dating back to the Hellenistic period; sometime before BC tipped its hat to AD and Greece was still at the helm.
The remains of the Basilica of St. John hung like a little power plant on the horizon and centered around a rather epic baptistery carcus that appeared like the jigsaw shuffle of a cross.
3 km beyond is Ephesus, the sprawling remains of a city built by the Greeks and eventually taken over by the Romans, dating back to 10th century BC and becoming the second largest city of the Roman Empire after Rome.
I entered at the opposite side of the tour buses and often felt charged like a pin by a wave.
On my last night in Selcuk we drank Turkey's ubiquitous Efes beer and talked of rearraging world maps. I contimplated moving Canada into the Indian Ocean.
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