21st July. Istanbul
When you are in a strange city, you find certain languages are universal. Strolling along on the streets of Istanbul, Lady Gaga suddenly erupts from one of the shops. For once, her overtly sexual tone makes me smile. In a city where they had little need for English, they still listen to Lady Gaga. Those inside the shop nodded appreciatively, one caught my eye and smiled. Music.
Spice bazaar. Pushing and being pushed by hundreds of people, I pass stalls weighed down by evil eyes, mounds of spices that are cheaper in Karachi, second hand clothes and people from all over the world. They turn to each other and chatter. Turkish, Arabic, Strange accented English, Oxfordian, Spanish, French, Afrikaans, German, Hindi. Maybe somewhere, even Urdu. A man selling spices sees me. He can tell I am completely lost. I look at him, smile. He winks. I laugh. It really was that simple.
I find my way out of the bazaar and into a small cafe. Their tea is different from ours. They drink it strong and sweet. And constantly. Foreigners mill around, locals serve them. A Turkish woman (or Arab? Lebanese? Moroccan?) is having sheesha. The rings on her fingers glitter as she holds the hookah just so. Just the way we do. She blows a smoke ring in my direction.
I walk into the lobby and the attendant I have befriended smiles at me. He doesn't speak a word of English but in four days he has discovered my love for coffee. He indicates that he is going to get me a drink. I smile and nod, there is no stopping him. Outside, the azaan sounds from the Blue Mosque. The music switches itself off, the crowds pause for a while, no more smoke rings are blown. All are silent or are deafened. All respond.
All somehow understand.
Like!
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
ReplyDelete