Istanbul
As you may have noticed, I haven’t written about Istanbul for a long time. You are probably wondering why I haven’t written about my most favorite place in the world. Did I forget about Istanbul? Did I fall out of love with Istanbul? Did I forget about the little boy of Istanbul, you might ask? Did I disappear? Well, no, as you can see, I am still here. The answer to all of your questions is: No.
So why, you may ask did I stop writing? Writer’s block? No. Loss of love? No. Disillusionment? No. There’s lots I could have written about Istanbul, about Turkey, but lately I’ve been busy. So what have I been up to, you may wonder. Well, if truth be told, I’ve been writing, writing, writing for many other sites. Just not this one.
Also, writing about Istanbul at the current time is not possible. Why? You might ask. Well, I can’t write about Istanbul and Turkey for one, because it has to do with the censorship of the self. If you have been a regular reader of my blog, you would know that I censor myself. I am such a good girl. I censor myself. I’m laying low. I’m being very quiet. I’m sure if you read other sites about Turkey you might be able to figure out why. The time is not now to speak up and speak out.
I could write about Turkish films from the talented filmmakers in Istanbul and Turkey like Nuri Bilge Ceylan or Yeşim Ustaoğlu or the German Turkish Fatih Akın or the Kurdish filmmaker Bahman Ghobadi, but I haven’t been able to see any films lately. I’m waiting for my video store or local movie theaters to distribute some good Turkish films.
I could write about the love story of a very good friend of mine in Vancouver who keeps going to Istanbul to see her Turkish lover. I’m so jealous of her – she gets to go to Istanbul rather frequently. I love a love story like anyone else and writing about love might make me happy but I am not sad most of the time. But, as I said, I’ve been busy, busy, busy. Writing, writing, writing.
Perhaps I could write about politics in Turkey, but politics bore me and politics are dirty and then I would be going against my moral code of behavior and that is the act of censorship of the self. Perhaps you think I am a coward and if you must think this, then I am.
I could maybe write about writers of Turkey but then too, one always has to censor the self to survive or hire a body guard in this very modern world of the 21st century. But I haven’t been reading any Turkish writers lately, like my favorite Orhan Pamuk. Like I said, I’ve been writing, writing, writing. This 21st century, this age of mistrust, this age of violence, this age of extremism where religion has raised its very ugly head. I remember when I was a little girl. Religion was barely mentioned, it was a private thing. It was the cold war then and we worried only about two things.
I could write about how I miss Istanbul which I do, but the time is not right to travel back to the city of my dreams. The light is not right in the sky. My next vacation destinations are somewhere else in the world for business, for pleasure, for leisure.
But I have not forgotten Istanbul, that perfect city for artists, for travelers, for lovers, for writers. Neither have I forgotten the little boy of Istanbul, who by now must be a young man. I wonder if he has forgotten me, but I think not. I was an oddity in his life, something out of the ordinary. But one day I shall return to find the little boy of Istanbul and many other things which are stored in the vast halls of my mind in the filing cabinet entitled Istanbul: Censored.
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Comment from oceanme
Time: December 6, 2008, 8:36 pm
I am not sure what the deal is with the censorship… It is all in the Delivery~
Go to Istanbul… start by thinking you are going and then just go… simple… simple