I have no idea what the title of the post means. I could google translate, but I'd rather not. You see, early this year, I went on an amazing trip through Turkey, which involved making bookings on budget (?) domestic Turkish airlines, like THY and Pegasus. Both were a pleasure to fly, and I have wonderful memories of the trip, the airports, the train stations, the newspapers, the TV channels, the food, the colours, the food, the food, the sea, the sea, the sea, the sea, and the sheer kick one can get from travelling in a country where most people dont speak English as a matter of course.
Anyway.
In making these bookings, I used my primary email address to create an account, and I must have inadvertently clicked on the 'Send me a newsletter in a strange language with vivid yellow pictures' checkbox, because every other day, Pegasus emails me in Turkish enticing me to oh, I dont know, fly from Antalya to Bodrum maybe, or announces rapid fire sale tickets on flights from Selcuk to Ankara, (I think) or strongly urges me to sign up to a Pegasus Plus membership.
Usually, I delete the emails, but sometimes I read them carefully, particularly on days when I need a little cheering up. I imagine the Pegasus email telling me I'm getting too cushy in life and I should use artillery and wage war (punlar ve artilar var...), or that I should really go back to learning magic (I used to know some pretty good tricks as a child) (Uçuş puan kazanmanın en kolay yolunu) or that I should feel free to sin, lie and since its winter, go ice-skating and glide (Sizinle ilgileniyoruz...) or that the world is a wonderful place so I should stop sulking (Dünyanın En Güzel Hediyesi).
Sometimes, I'd like to believe, like so many people I know, it too has taken its responsibilities in the world seriously, considers me to be the definitive girl whom people send poetry to, and regularly sends me yearning love poetry.
(Kart yok, vergi yok, karmaşık mil hesapları ve kontenjan sınırı yok ...)
Maybe its not yearning love poetry though, that one has the potential to be a koan. One can always hope.
***
I started reading the Player of Games yesterday, and at about 1:08 am (Yes, I checked the clock), I became so unsettled by the book that I had to take a walk around the room, then that walk being unsatisfactory, I walked into the living room and then into the kitchen, drank a glass of water and tried to calm myself down. The Culture seems to be everything I thought it would be. Everything.
The book is much better than Consider Phlebas, and I can't wait to read the third one (chronologically only, as apparently the reading order isn't particularly relevant).
Anyway.
In making these bookings, I used my primary email address to create an account, and I must have inadvertently clicked on the 'Send me a newsletter in a strange language with vivid yellow pictures' checkbox, because every other day, Pegasus emails me in Turkish enticing me to oh, I dont know, fly from Antalya to Bodrum maybe, or announces rapid fire sale tickets on flights from Selcuk to Ankara, (I think) or strongly urges me to sign up to a Pegasus Plus membership.
Usually, I delete the emails, but sometimes I read them carefully, particularly on days when I need a little cheering up. I imagine the Pegasus email telling me I'm getting too cushy in life and I should use artillery and wage war (punlar ve artilar var...), or that I should really go back to learning magic (I used to know some pretty good tricks as a child) (Uçuş puan kazanmanın en kolay yolunu) or that I should feel free to sin, lie and since its winter, go ice-skating and glide (Sizinle ilgileniyoruz...) or that the world is a wonderful place so I should stop sulking (Dünyanın En Güzel Hediyesi).
Sometimes, I'd like to believe, like so many people I know, it too has taken its responsibilities in the world seriously, considers me to be the definitive girl whom people send poetry to, and regularly sends me yearning love poetry.
(Kart yok, vergi yok, karmaşık mil hesapları ve kontenjan sınırı yok ...)
Maybe its not yearning love poetry though, that one has the potential to be a koan. One can always hope.
***
I started reading the Player of Games yesterday, and at about 1:08 am (Yes, I checked the clock), I became so unsettled by the book that I had to take a walk around the room, then that walk being unsatisfactory, I walked into the living room and then into the kitchen, drank a glass of water and tried to calm myself down. The Culture seems to be everything I thought it would be. Everything.
The book is much better than Consider Phlebas, and I can't wait to read the third one (chronologically only, as apparently the reading order isn't particularly relevant).
9 comments:
:) hilarious. good stuff. envious you get through so much reading! :)
Kart yok, vergi yok... has a nice ring to it. It sounds like a poem I once read: Hungarian sky / Melancholy sigh / I'm thinking of you with infinite love...
I love this post :)
@Malu - I attribute it all to the kindle. :)
@Sroyon - It _does_ have a nice yearny ring to it, doesn't it? :)
Those lines you picked out are among the best from the para I found, unless you'd care posting the whole poem somewhere?
@S - Yay! :) You me Turkey bond bond.
@Comment Deleted - :) Thanks. I also noticed the reference on your blog.
I read it in a book which quoted only those lines.
Early this year, I also made a wonderful trip to Turkey.
It was my first cross-border trip.
At first, I was aghast by the cold. It's so.. penetrating. But then sun came out and lit up the curves of the hagia sophia and put green tints into the bosphorous, and i was enchanted.
Did you visit the Basilica Cistern, and engage in royal Ottoman costumery?
I travelled THY once; it was indeed a pleasure to fly, except that they fussed and fussed over a cheap gold dagger in my luggage, which for some (now) peculiar reason, I was completely unwilling to surrender.
Sasha, hi ,its really late and im sleepy, but i'll leave a detailed response soon.
When I say early, I actually mean the end of April, and it was still freezing.
How fun for this to have been your first cross-border trip, I can't think of a better place to visit. I'm curious as to why you chose the phrase 'cross-border' ? Are you from the region around Turkey?
We stayed around the Hagia Sophia (lived in its shadow pretty much) and walked up and down the streets trying to find our hotel the first day we were there. It would appear and disappear from over the roofs of carpet stores and turrets would spring from the heads of tourists much like us. All quite surreal.
I liked it in the sun, but I liked it more when it was dark, and lit up and quiet, and all the pesky DSLR types had gone away. There is a fabulous roof-top restaurant with the most spectacular view of the Hagia Sophia, and the Great Mosque (and the sea). Did you go there?
Did you see many cats? We saw a vast number of well-fed, very personable cats. Did the tulips surprise you? They astonished us.
I did visit the Basilica, but my travelling-companions were disdainfully cool and sophisticated. They turned a well practiced scornful eye at the finery, which looked splendid indeed. Did you get your picture taken? I am envious.
I will ask you a question that has been bothering me since the day after the incident occurred: Did you sit down and eat the fish sandwiches near Eminonu and if so, were you peddled to by little boys who sold you hollow crunchy sugar syrup soaked sweets, four for a lira, in a plastic bowl (which look like gule-gule but are not) and if so, _what_ in heaven's name are they called?!!
When we flew THY, I'm pretty sure we were travelling with a rock band of some kind. They took up the last few rows, carried weird equipment, wore a lot of jewellery and were outfitted completely in black leather. THY are nice but ours was a _very_ short flight. Why a gold dagger!!? Wherefrom did you buy one such? And where did you fly THY to?
Post a Comment