Wikiwhat?

The dust has not settled yet. Yes, the Cablegate is on and Assange's Wikileaks is leaking almost 40 years of American Foreign Mission correspondence. Only the first 24 hours over and only 0,1% of the documents released, it's rather early to comment on anything. However, very interesting commentary from several countries are already hitting the newswires. And this brief note would try to deal with those early comments and one specific document within two hundred seventy something that has already released.

People call this event the third world war. Some others call it a precursor of an inevitable cyber-war which they think would be the future of warfare. I call it a major test on online civil rights and liberties. Some US politicians already declared that they would love Wikileaks to be included in the list of terrorist organizations. I somewhat agree to Secretary of State when she said that confidentiality of private information is paramount to civilization as we know it. But leaking administrative information pertinent to International manipulations and diplomatic hypocrisies could not be considered a pure breach of that principle since it produces information gathered for the people, funded by the people and implemented against both the will and benefit of the people. I also agree with Clinton, when she said that this information might harm individuals or societies at large. Yes, but can we say that these "individuals" or "societies", while maybe performing their duties stuck to universally accepted principles? For example the report I will mention below by then Ankara Ambassador Edelman, whom does it harm? Labeled as a "hawk" and "pro-con" once, it shows his competency as a political analyst and sheds the limelight onto the corrupt and hedonistic political arena in Turkey. And if these actors that he speaks of in his report would be harmed, what's wrong with that?

I'm aware of the fact that information is a two sided knife. Every opinion holder might have some justifiable points. But we must be aware of a new age in which we are living for a good 20 years now. The concept of private and confidential information is changing. Responsible behavior is no longer the duty of only common masses. This could lead to two things; one is compartmentalization of private information by the governments, which would in turn add to their clumsiness and authoritarianism like a new Patriot Act, and the second is liberalization of information in the long run. And this author thinks both will happen respectively.

Another reaction came from the PM of Turkey, Erdogan on his way to a new episode on his endless foreign visits declared Wikileaks unreliable and stated that all the documents should be revealed until they would officially comment on them. In a few hours, all major International players have neither declined nor confirmed allegations surfaced by Wikileaks cables, which in diplomacy means a silent acceptance. Turkey once more was isolated in its haste.

Let's read Edelman:

"In surrounding himself with an iron ring of sycophantic (but contemptuous) advisors, Erdogan has isolated himself from a flow of reliable information, which partially explains his failure to understand the context -- or real facts..."

"A second question is the relation of Turkey and its citizens to history -- the history of this land and citizens' individual history. Subject to rigid taboos, denial, fears, and mandatory gross distortions, the study of history and practice of historiography in the Republic of Turkey remind one of an old Soviet academic joke: the faculty party chief assembles his party cadres and, warning against various ideological threats, proclaims, "The future is certain. It's only that damned past that keeps changing.""

In his analysis, after establishing the current outlook in 2004, and a vivid portrayal of many imminent politicians in Turkey, ends his words with the above remark on the infamous Soviet joke. It looks like only yesterday's statements by the PM proves him right. Lack of understanding and vision is encumbering Turkey for almost a century now. Despite any ossible argument on morality or outcome scenarios of Cablegate, one has to first indicate the good it could do to world politics. Many ideas, analyses or directions were taken and put away only to be destroyed when due date comes. Introduction of these ideas into public domain would help understand our recent past better as well as enabling academia and think-tanks to envision a future with a different kind of freedom of flow of information and access to so-called public documents.

Just let it be...

I need closure. I need an end. I, I, I, I, yes, this is about me. Otherwise I'll lose it. I need to block the voices.

Every month, there is a stupid development in the news about Hrant. In his life, everyday, there were news from somewhere that killed him. He yelled many times that he was sick and tired. Of ignorance. Of irrelevancies.

Now, it's my turn. I'm tired of anything that is done to remember, to forget, to martyrize, to embellish him or his memory. I'm just tired.

That could easily be my ending. Of a story that has been told for so long, and became its own rival, its own nemesis. I don't love him because he was a great man. I never cared if he was right or wrong, or if he changed the word or solved the Armenian problem.

You need to get this. I loved him because he was him. A soul, a heart, who shared my existence for extensive periods of time. That's what I cherish. And that's all.

That could easily be my end. Don't want to share. Don't want to remember, don't want that pain. It's over. I want peace. I need closure. I don't want to hear loud voices.

Just peace.

And may the peace be with you my friend.

Just let us be...

Requiem

Grits Dreams

When waiting for the sun to come up in Savannah, Georgia, the ocean flutters with sounds. Sounds of seagulls, leaving fishing crafts and basically sea touching everything that surrounds it. These little voices you can only hear at the wake of a new day. As I have called it before, this "heaven on earth" has many vices. I leave these to travel writers, for me Savannah is a criss-cross beauty of streets and stately houses and ocean and surely the food.

As you drive down I-95, it all comes to a halt when you reach suburban Savannah. Southern charm takes you to her arms and nurture you with the best that corner of our world has to offer. And a local diner is always ready to serve you with your pre-day meal. And I hate to leave the convention and would like to order some pancakes, bacon'n eggs and of course grits.
We are in the south aren't we? If pancakes will soothe you and bacon and eggs will add flavor to your palate, grits will be the real soul searcher. I don't remember when it was the first time I ever ate grits. But since this first encounter, they became one of the pillar stones for me that represent Americana. A Native American food, grits are basically coarsely ground corn; a maize cereal. But so far the best form of corn I've consumed.

From the olden corner diners of Tennessee country land, to busy and crowded IHOP in Orlando city, grits are served all day to greet the occasional newbie southern style. It never gets cold in the south but if I have to quote a restaurateur from Luisiana, "hot and spicy takes the warmth out of your body, it cools your feelings". Same goes for grits for me. Before the dawn breaks, on this beautiful Savannah autumn day, a full serving of grits reminds me of a lazy spring breeze down here at the harbor.

The view proves me right. There are poor people in Savannah like everywhere in the States. But everyone in Savannah are stately. There is still time for the music. There is still time for the early Sunday crowds to fill the streets in their prettiest garments. On my table outdoors, a little bit of morning frost, and a big helping of grits vapor. A few seagulls around. And an occasional fishy smell from the docks. A perfect picture.

Soon, morning dwellers will surround me in this tiny forlorn diner. I'll hear cheerful children's voices with a familiar twang which I've grown to adore whenever I hear it. They will be forgetting their financial blues for a few hours of Savannah morn. They will not count the bills when they ask for the receipt. Orleans music will fill the loudspeakers that stand silently for now. The sea will go back to its silent murmur. People will be the voice of Savannah once more.

I will stay. With grits on my plate. To remind me the real taste of life where the dreams are true just an arms length away. Only if we stop whining about past and eat grits and catch a merry moment in life.

Re-islamization of Asia Minor

Ultra-nationalists are planning to conquer Asia Minor, all over again. Tomorrow, on October 1st, MHP, their major political organization is planning a Friday prayer session in Holy Virgin Cathedral at Ani, a sacred and antique settlement in what used to be Western Armenia. They claim 5000 people will join.

In the last couple months, Turkish state, dormant about the Christian heritage in Turkey, allowed two Eastern Orthodox masses to take place in Sumela Monastry near Trabizond and Holy Cross Church at Akhtamar Island in the Lake of Van. It looks like these two events have flamed a nationalist uproar in the country.

Today, two head figures of MHP, namely the leader Bahçeli and Kars Office Chief O. Akbas declared that “Anatolia (Asia Minor) will experience a new conquest by Muslim Turks against renewed desires for a Pontian Greek State and a western Armenia” in the lands that is Turkey now.

Tomorrow, upon obtaining the permits from local authorities, the followers of MHP are planned to pray together at Holy Virgin Cathedral at Ani near Kars. A wave of protests are expected from countries like Armenia and Greece. It’s a muslim custom to convert churches into mosques. There are a lot of examples of churches-turned-mosques all over Istanbul and elsewhere in Asia Minor.

Η Πόλις

Είπες· «Θα πάγω σ’ άλλη γή, θα πάγω σ’ άλλη θάλασσα,
Μια πόλις άλλη θα βρεθεί καλλίτερη από αυτή.
Κάθε προσπάθεια μου μια καταδίκη είναι γραφτή·
κ’ είν’ η καρδιά μου — σαν νεκρός — θαμένη.
Ο νους μου ως πότε μες στον μαρασμό αυτόν θα μένει.
Οπου το μάτι μου γυρίσω, όπου κι αν δω
ερείπια μαύρα της ζωής μου βλέπω εδώ,
που τόσα χρόνια πέρασα και ρήμαξα και χάλασα».

Καινούριους τόπους δεν θα βρεις, δεν θάβρεις άλλες θάλασσες.
Η πόλις θα σε ακολουθεί. Στους δρόμους θα γυρνάς
τους ίδιους. Και στες γειτονιές τες ίδιες θα γερνάς·
και μες στα ίδια σπίτια αυτά θ’ ασπρίζεις.
Πάντα στην πόλι αυτή θα φθάνεις. Για τα αλλού — μη ελπίζεις –
δεν έχει πλοίο για σε, δεν έχει οδό.
Ετσι που τη ζωή σου ρήμαξες εδώ
στην κώχη τούτη την μικρή, σ’ όλην την γή την χάλασες.

Κωνσταντίνος Π. Καβάφης (1910)

Votes, Churches and other relevant frivolities

A journalist friend of mine will get crazy about this article. She'd say "too many subjects in one single article" or "it's too long and complex to be read easily, and there are too many points to consider". Yes, I know. But in Turkey, the agenda is full of such frivolities that public opinion takes so seriously; one leads to another, and one ends up with such a confused and paralyzed mind; such articles are a matter of daily reality, and one has to live with them. As one does with chaotic traffic, and stupid rules of everyday life that no-one obeys.

First there was the referendum. In accordance with the prerequisites of European Union membership, and long term goals of the prevailing government such as eliminating the pressure to their administration by the status quo supporters in Turkey, majority in the parliament come up with a package of constitutional changes. The package included several amendments, most of which were supported even by the opposition. But a few, especially concerning the changes in the way that higher court members would be appointed, were highly criticized. The vote in parliament were a little shy of the needed 2/3rd majority; so according to the constitution, people had to approve the package by voting on a referendum. Until this point everything seemed in order.


As the referendum approached, it turned into a fanfare. Both government and opposition leaders approached the public as if they were demanding votes for a common election, and the discussions went on and on on their private virtues, past and capabilities instead of the virtues or hence the lack of, of the amendments in the package. The language immediately became rude and what is left over is only a bunch of insults and outrage.

Ah, yes, 'yes' votes won, and now the administration have a huge task of amending a huge number of laws accordingly. The real discovery about the referendum is that both sides of the divide in Turkey, namely the status-quo supporters (so called right wing and ultra-nationalists) versus liberals and conservatives (read islamists) of every make and mold, both are radicalized to the extreme. Neither party has any tolerance for each other, both are very hostile to people of different views and the society is getting bipolar continuously. Both sides seriously think the others are traitors of the nation.

And both parties think all Christians living in the country have already sold it out.

First there was the mass at Soumela near Trabizond. Greeks around the world collected there for a mass to celebrate "The Dormition of the most holy lady Theotokos and ever-virgin Mary" on August 15th, under the scrutiny and permissions of the state. However since the venue is considered to be a museum, the permissions for a mass there only had to be executed outside the premises. Among cries of threats and assaults hundreds of Greek Orthodox believers gathered, prayed and danced to their own music afterwards. Among them, Pontus Greeks celebrated an unexpected return to their motherland. Feelings and hysteria were galore.

The public at large in Turkey was agitated. Since they saw every Greek or Armenian existence on their land as a threat in their conscience, squeaking voices were heard in the media criticizing the state for "letting enemies of the state to demonstrate on the motherland soil".

And there came September the 19th. After 95 years of void, the Holy Cross Church on the island of Akhtamar in the Lake of Van witnessed a resurrection of enormous importance. But not the resurrection of the Holy Cross it was named after. Eastern Orthodox Armenians were excited everywhere came the month of September. It has long been decided that newly renovated Church of Holy Cross in Akhtamar would be inaugurated for service and this service would be repeated once every year on the same date. But then again, it was claimed to be a museum as well sharing the fate of many churches in Turkey including Agia Sophia in Istanbul. So at first the state refused to put a cross on op of the church of Holy Cross. All Armenian churches including the patriarchate in Armenia protested this development, and declared they would not attend the proceedings.

Turkish state fall back against the protests and declared it would erect the cross on top of the building after the mass of September the 19th. This, we will yet to see. But for many, who attended the mass yesterday, it was a day to remember despite everything. Many had come to Turkey for the first time, a land they consider their motherland. The fact that Akhtamar is considered to be one of the most holy places in southern Armenia also helped the outburst of feelings among the prayers. Armenian Eastern Orthodox Patriarch supported the reasons of other churches for not attending the ceremony in his inauguration speech, but he said it was nonetheless a beginning for mending of old wounds. It was indeed. Near future would be good grounds to test the sincerity of Turkish authorities to provide a lebensraum for its dwindling Christian minorities and their rights to perform not only their religious traditions but also their cultural customs.

Yet this author finds it necessary to connect the dots here. In the turn of the first decade of the millennium in Turkey, we are now faced with a bipolar society, with raised levels of both intolerance and nationalism. Acts of violence against religious or ethnic minorities are on the rise every year since 2002 elections. There seems to be a dialogue between minority leaders and government officials but in the final analysis, every request hits the same concrete wall as it did for the last 80 something years. And yes, "fear and loathing in las vegas" is the name of the game after the deaths of Hrant Dink (a Turkish-Armenian journalist), two fathers of the Catholic Church and a Christian publisher.

Turkey has a record of failing every test of sincerity against its minorities for centuries. If it has a tendency to change, albeit rising nationalism among its citizens, it is yet to be seen. I'm afraid that these efforts will end up as food for the upcoming elections in 2011, and will be forgotten for another lifetime.


(For background information and in depth information on above mentioned facts please read Fréderike Geerdink's "Church or Museum".)

...hardly loving...

when their hands are stitched
stitched forever, for a century to come,
when connected, through their minds,
connected despite the distance.
their minds are one in all, in all the nightmares
of the streets lost, the blood
in their hands, on their feet;
their hands stitched into each other
their hands in blood.
are there endless prairies in far away lands
are there dreams of birds praying on waste
of those who doesn't know
are you comfortable now
are you content
your children have no voice,
they are still ablaze
whom you call home for dinner
when the sun-of a thousand years-fade away
their feet are bare
their shadows or their faces longer
creeping into a nightmare
everyday
remember sunflower leftovers on your doorsteps
remember the laughter
watch over your elderly
watch over your hands
despite all and still
stitched together.

(In memoriam to the martyrs of Smyrna) 

"Ta Septemvriana"-Last hope lost

Tonight is the night many of my follow citizens spent a night in Konstantinoupolis (Istanbul) fifty-five years ago in nightmares. Today their sons were killed, today, fifty-five years ago their daughters were abused. Their shops were destroyed. But their pride was intact.

They did what a real citizen would do. They thought the pogrom against the Greeks of K'poli (Istanbul) and Smyrna (Izmir) was an act of a mob. They waited for the state to protect them. They didn't know then, the state itself was behind the mob. The last remnants of the Greek population of Asia Minor would be sent away. 5o years of ethnic cleansing against the Greeks was about to be completed.


They also didn't know they were spending one of the last nights that they would in a city that they have built almost two millennia ago. A city that they created, embellished and worshipped above all. A city where its Greek inhabitants survived centuries of abuse, humiliation and torture. But that was it. As an infamous patriarch of the turn of the century couldn't save them when Greek Republic was formed, as banishing the newly born Greece couldn't save his head, the fate was written on the wall.

The father of the protagonist of the movie "Politiki Kouzina" (Cuisine of Poli) narrates about the night they were deported from the city. The policemen comes and asks them to leave, while whispering to his ear; "but of course if you turn muslim, you can stay". The father still cries when he says that he thought about it for some seconds. He couldn't decide right away. Noone can decide right away when it comes to this city. But even they thought, their blood, their beliefs, and most of all their belief to mother Greece, made them leave the city of their dreams.

So they went.

Their bodies are gone for decades. But their souls linger on. When I hear Dalaras sing "The bells of Hagia Sophia", I still hear the chorus of countless refugees. This is what they are still. Premature kids of mother Greece; belonging nowhere, still in limbo.

You can hear Theia Eleni weeping if you listen carefully on the pavement at Yeniköy. You can see the absurd looks on the faces of private security personnel at Fanari. Or you may take the "vapori" (steamship) to the Princess islands. Where you can listen the cries of sirens longing for their habitual songs of amines.

Yes, for half a century, the city lost its children. But that unfortunately was not the gain of another. Children were simply lost. That's all.

Maybe soon in time, no one would remember the citizens of K'Poli. But the city will. From the walls of Hagia Sophia, or from the ruins of a Byzantine aqua-duct, you will still hear the song "Kaiktsi", longing for a lover lost on a different shore, in the centuries to come. Because a child never forgets the womb he was created in.

Imagining Chios

It's just an island. Or is it? Situated close to Asia Minor, the Greek island of Chios has history, tradition and quality embedded in its culture.

Like the enormous castle that dominates the Chios town (Chora) or the medieval village of Mesta, the whole island resonates a very rich past and a promising future. Although influenced by temporary Italian influences, Chios was a member of the original Ionic League and predominantly Greek throughout the centuries. It is also notable with its huge diaspora dispersed around the world, especially in London, New York and Australia. During summer English can easily become lingua franca in Chios town hotspots.


Chios was also first home of many immigrants from Asia Minor and runaway Greek soldiers from the great catastrophe in the 1920's. These helped form the abundant cultural riches of today's Chios. People of the island come second in hospitality and kindness to none. Mr. Hadzeleni at the harbor's travel agency, or Mr. Spordilis of Hotel Kyma are helping all and every visitor in the best they can, everyday. In my 30 something years of experience I never heard Mr. Hadzeleni say "no" to any request. An islander by birth, Mikis Theodorakis might be considered as an epitome of kindness and grace that represents Chios.

But fame and fashion are not my points in this article. I'd like to present Chios as a mere escape pod. The south full of Masticha trees and unforgettable beaches and the north, although bare, hosting a few of the most unspoiled spots for recreation, Chios is a heaven for many who had enough of the city hustle, let it be in Athens, London, New York or Istanbul. The food, although far from competing with Lesvos, is unique and non-touristic. In Komi, as well as Chios town, you can find authentic tavernas, that will feed you with the care of your grandmother. I would like to mention one: Tasso's in Chios town, 3 minutes walk south of Hotel Chandris (or Hotel Kyma) is the summit of homely cooking in a touristic town.

Last week I was in Chios. Surely that was not my first time there. Living in Smyrna makes it necessary to use Chios as a gateway to Greece or to the rest of the world. However this was special. I wasn't there for a quick day or with a plan. I was there to feel free. And being there to feel free made all the difference. Biking the mountain roads under the sun with a Meltemi breeze, finding hidden treasures, be it food or a village and its blossoming hospitality, were all unique experiences even for a seasoned Greece traveler. I have felt at home in many places in Greece, but Chios felt more home among equals.

I will keep and cherish my memories with my bike and friends there, but I'll share with you this: whenever you feel like you need freedom, forget the crowded streets of Mykonos or Santorini. Chios awaits you with all its charm and sincerity at a short flights range. Say kalimera to all you meet, and they will greet you with unparalleled hospitality, friendship and with their immense culinary riches. And of course best beaches around this neck of the woods are a solid bonus.

Dink Genocide

How many times can you kill a man?

How many times can you dishonor an honorable family? How many times can you deny what was his right by birth? How many times can you dehumanize a humanitarian?

I will not go into details of who Hrant Dink was and what the lawsuit in European Human Rights Dink family started against Turkish Republic in this article. You may read it in detail here. But rather, I will concentrate on the defense of the T.R. in the same court case.

Hrant Dink was killed by a desperado in front of his newspaper in Istanbul. He was warned beforehand in the town canter, in presence of the governor by two dark personalities. He has received countless death threats all his professional life. And the trial of his murderer became a quick farce. After the prosecutor started a case against him, he personally turned to European Human Rights Court against that case. After his death, his family reapplied to the same court against the negligence of Turkish authorities in the events that lead to his murder.

In the official defense statement that the government sent to European Human Rights Court, Turkey claims that Mr. Dink cannot be harmed by the lawsuits against him in Turkey, basically, because he is dead now. They forget the fact that these very lawsuits and the media fanfare around them might be the very reason of his death. Or one might also claim that these lawsuits and the propaganda that came along them were deliberate to ignite the events that lead to the murder of Hrant Dink.

On a humanitarian front though, claiming a person can no longer be harmed of any wrongdoing because the wrongdoings were successful and caused him his life is a pure hypocrisy, and shows the judiciary approach and its fallacies in Turkey in general.

Secondly Turkey claims his writings were endangering social harmony and were dangerous for the community as were the National Socialist propaganda in Europe. We are talking about a person who, in each article he wrote, wrote about the importance of peace and harmony among ethnic groups in Turkey. We are talking about a person who never hurt anyone or in his rare rants, never broke a heart. Comparing his thoughts (because all his actions were basically thoughts and articles) with the ones of Nazis only show the kind of people governing the Turkish state: the same as the ones governing this unfortunate country since 1880's.

One, but only one results could be derived from the events of post-Dink murder era: Turkish Republic is committing the same crime over and over again and should be stopped.

Every time their actions are disturbing the memory and humanity of Hrant Dink and Dink Family, they are killing Hrant over and over again. Every time they defend and sympathize with his murderer and the mentality behind him, every time the judges of so-called Turkish justice system puts down the prosecution of his murderers, every time his name is scorned upon to degrade his people, they are killing him again. They have created a new type of genocide through one person.

As they have destroyed the whole Christian population of Asia Minor during the first half of the last century, they are trying to get rid of other minorities of the area ever since. But one fact eludes these fools: there is no end to minorities in this geography since it is composed of immigrants from all over Middle East, Asia and Balkans; and one day they might end up without a people that they could call citizens.

I don't think that would matter though. What's important is the state. Even if it has no people to live in it.

"Possessions" of Armenians

On his article in Today's Zaman on August 11th, 2010, Mr. Orhan Kemal Cengiz questions if the real reason why Turkish state denies Armenian genocide is in fact monetary. The fact that the state would have to pay billions for the Armenian property left in Asia Minor after the atrocities of 1915 and later. He concludes that the real reason reaches far beyond that and should be found at the definition of Turkish identity as a people and an ongoing war by the "deep state" to hide the lies told anise the inauguration of the modern Turkish Republic. I cannot agree more.

He writes; "we are now able to hear the allegations of some historians in the mainstream media about the possessions of Armenians". That is where I was stuck. Being a member of what today we call "minorities of Asia Minor", I have strong opposition to this word: possessions. For Armenians, albeit local or a member of a diaspora somewhere, the main possession is their memories. The land, houses, shops and other dwellings are important because they are all parts of that collective memory.


Surely, I am young to understand anyone who has witnessed or direct relative of one who has witnessed 1915, 1922 or even 1950's. But my experience with people who are direct witnesses of these events make me think that no Armenian, or Greek, or Assyrian is after a house, or money or anything tangible. Many Armenian diaspora organizations have collectively stated that, monetary requests are just tools to force the opponents to acceptance.

Here's the deal. Even though an International Court could grant (which I really doubt) any compensation to an Armenian or Greek family, there are many International agreements that resolved these claims in mid and late 20's. It would be awful hard to pass through these unless new facts about the details of the Genocide will be unearthed.

The real claim is about the memories. It is not about the ownership of the land. It is about the memories stolen from generations of people by an ethnic cleansing that started in the late 19th century that goes on even today. It is for the memory of the little children of 1915, from whom, not only the families were stolen, but also their identity. It is for the memory of hundreds of thousand of "Turkish" grandfathers and grandmothers of today who hid their religion, beliefs, traditions even from their own children and grandchildren. It is for the memory of countless Armenians and Greeks, and Assyrians, and Zarathustrans, and Kurds, and others dispersed around the globe and forced to assume different identities.

And in the memory of those under the ground. In Asia Minor or elsewhere, in mass graves or under green grass at a calm pasture in the U.S. It is their memory that has to be replaced; not some house in Caesaria. The houses lost their souls. It is about putting the souls of living and lost in the right perspective.

She had a pink scarf and silvery eyes...

At a cheap restaurant in market district in Izmir, three women sat. Two were elderly, one was a youngster. They ordered the regular fare. And started chatting. The youngster had a dark skin, and very light blue eyes. And an incredible pink scarf. She wore a black top with long sleeves to cover all her visible parts per Islamic rule. She had long skirt that extended to the floor. It was 40 something degrees. And not a drop of sweat at sight.

There was something wrong in her eyes at first. Couldn't point out what and directed my attention back to my own plate. But it was not before long her attitude attracted my attention again. It was obvious that she couldn't focus her state on one subject. Her eyes were moving rapidly horizontally and she was pointing her gaze at different points continuously. She looked so unhappy, so dull, so disoriented, yet so beautiful in all.

She ignored all communications attempts by her party. As their plates arrive, the rest of the table attacked their food. She kept staring. No head movement, no interest in her food. Just her eyes moved as they did before and her unrecognizing gaze kept on staring in my direction.

For the next forty-five minutes this charade continued. She searched for an unknown help somewhere. She looked and looked without a single emotion or motion, save for a few touches to her nose with her fingers. Yes, she was desperate, but why and of what escapes me.

Does it?

A young beautiful girl, all wrapped head to toe with heavy clothes on a fervent summer day, who knows what kind of torture she faces under the yoke of the males of her family everyday? Do I really wonder what became of her? Or she is just sharing a common fate of many Muslim women in this world?

As her party finished their food and paying and doggy-bagging her plate, she jumped to her feet. Started walking to a destination without waiting for anyone.

She had a place to rush to. Or not. Maybe she was just trying to leave herself behind.

To Apple or not to Apple

Confusion abound. As a long time Apple user I'm confused too. Are we going back to the days of 1980's where Apple ruled the world with new toy ideas? Where Jobs ran after one idea after another, ending up creating MacIntosh and ruining Lisa? Or is it still the "new" Jobs and innovation is more disciplined and streamlined?

My problem: OK, iPhone and iPad are creating great revenues and market domination for the company. But Apple still has incredible Macs and an incredible OS to take care of. We haven't seen any major renovation since Snow Leopard on the latter. And while cutting edge renovations are being introduced on every iPhone generation, our Macs are unibodies still. Yet, we still pay a huge premium for them.

I accept that Windows and PC's still have a long way to go to even get closer. But I'd like to know if Apple is becoming a gadget corporation. Look at an Apple Store and if you scratch the gloss on top, you'll see what I mean.

Where is the tablet Mac that my daughter is waiting for since she was in middle school? iPad? No way, she became a graphics guru on a MBP and there is no way she'll be satisfied with a gadget that cannot run Photoshop or Illustrator. She needs a tablet Mac like so many other professionals.

As I write these words on my MBP, I feel uneasy. I'm so used to be sitting at the cutting edge of technology thanks to Apple for so many years, I'm uneasy about the near future of my computing habits.

If Apple ignores us Mac aficionados, there will be an Android that would come up and destroy our comfort, and I'd hate Apple for it if that day comes. Jobs needs to reinvent himself again?

Quixotes we are. With each word you'll see the windmills morph into huge giants and the fight would regain its meaning

Quixotes we are. With each word you'll see the windmills morph into huge giants and the fight would regain its meaning.

Sailing through an angry sea you enter the gates of Barcelona. She is proud. She's defecated. She is alone. She is not the land of Cervantes. But she hosts his tamable buildings on her hills. Red hills of sorrow.

We write Cervantes dreams on each and every page. Pages, once written, turns into birds with silver wings. Like a mirror, the world around them displayed on their furry silver. Wings whisper the words to unbecoming ears. Ears deaf and musical alike. Propagating loneliness. Whispers become waterfalls. Trees root in them. Glorious forever.

Implant the windmills of Mykonos to the heights of Barcelona in your mind. Bring in the music. Bring in shrimps in parsley sauce. Bring all the mermaids of Aegean. Bring in the dance of men. Men who cry us oceans. Let all these be of our words, longing for the fight. The fight of our dreams of youth.

You will see with your mind's eye then. Windmills planted on Barcelona heights will marry Aegean wind. A music will fill your ears. Unspoken before, unheard. It will cry Dulcinea!. When she is heard, the windmills will turn into great giants. Ready to fight your head off. Unto the ground. With full force. Crushing.

Close your eyes. Remind you of my words. For they are the power of your whispers. To win the fight, the whispers we inherited in our bones. To see the sea and be one without shedding a tear. Of sorrow. Of regret.

Close your eyes. Your hair will cover your ears. But. You'll see the sea.

Dear Tamarik,

Today, there is a carpet stuck in my mind. Today is a different day. Today is a different animal.

There are times in one's life, special times where concepts get turned around. You start to look at your own work differently. You start looking at the mirror in a different way. There had been an injection of fresh faith in your perception. Today is such a day.

Dear Tamarik,

Do you ever lie? Have you survived a lie ever? Have you went through a labyrinth of your own, so quick that your own face seemed blurred? Did you embellish that lie so perfectly that it became your reality? Craving about a ghost in your dreams which never existed in your daily life before?

The past always keeps on living near us. It haunts our best days, our worst days alike. It has a way of crumbling our minds. All 'as if's, 'I wish's, 'never mind's, poke around the corner as we hurry for a meeting or eat out lunch or walk a street.

Where are you right now? Really. In that meeting? Or at lunch? Or are you tripping over the clouds like I do? Which clouds I might ask as well. Are there any clouds left for us to trip over? Or there is only the scorching desert sun painting the sky day and night? How about that tree you climbed? A lie, too?

I know there are no lies. Your hump is real. You carry with yourself onehundredtwenty years of pain, alienation and chagrin. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it the way you carry your head when bowing down to pet your cat. Or waiting at that table for someone to enter your hinterland, as you get ready to shoot him an questioning gaze. As you tell fortunes everyday. As if the whole world was a huge cup and our tears were leftover coffee on the insides of this cup. You tell fortunes. As you travel to cities you don't like.

Why don't you like them? Because they lack the forests you crave? Or just because they don't reflect your looks? The looks you expect to come one day, like a shining bright star shooting across the dim sunset sky. There is no such star I'm afraid Dear Tamarik. But you go to them anyways. As you go to places that you know you'll never come back. Like life.

Dreams are made of cotton candy Dear Tamarik. As people chow them in gluttony they become manure. Manure of generations of gluttons are gathered in our door day by day. Our thoughts, our haste, our irrevocable fight is to clean our doorstep. So we can live on our own cotton candy. Dreameaters we are.

You know where I come from. Do you want to see it? Or do you want to curse at it away? Do you know?

Too many questions Dear Tamarik. When we distill our thoughts through the alembic of trial and tribulation we shall see if we can come up with anything but manure. I'm sure among the surest that your thoughts will turn into little birds of hope. Flying to remind us that you were there, you were fine, you were thinking about good things to come. Mine on the other hand, will go, search, find and feed them wherever they can be found.

Because they are and they always will be all we got.

Κωδικός: ‘χαμηλή ένταση’

Έχω περάσει πολύ χρόνο στην Ελλάδα και στα νησιά της, πολύ χρόνο από τη ζωή μου. Έχω δει μέρες από τη Μεταπολίτευση. Υπήρξα μάρτυρας μικρών ή μεγάλων οικονομικών συμφορών. Διάολε, η ιστορία της οικογένειάς μου είναι μια καλή απόδειξη για το πώς οι Έλληνες μπορούν να δημιουργήσουν φασαρίες στους εαυτούς τους.

Στη σύγχρονη εποχή, έχω δει απεργίες και διαδηλώσεις οι οποίες αποτελούν καθημερινά  γεγονότα στη ζωή των Ελλήνων.  Αλλά οι εμπειρίες μου σήμερα 29 Ιουνίου 2010 και μετά τις τελευταίες λίγες ημέρες που πέρασα στην Ελλάδα βρίσκονται σε απόλυτη αντίθεση με το πώς ένιωθα στις επισκέψεις μου τις τελευταίες δεκαετίες.

Πρώτα απ’ όλα πότε αρχίσαμε να μιλάμε χαμηλόφωνα οι Έλληνες; Πότε μάθαμε να σιωπούμε και να θρηνούμε τους εαυτούς μας? Πότε τα μάτια μας άρχισαν να κοιτάζουν το πάτωμα αντί για το γαλάζιο ουρανό; Πότε γίναμε το πιο άφωνο είδος στην Ευρώπη; Όπως έχει συμβεί και με άλλα γεγονότα, φυσικά και υπάρχει κακοφωνία στον τύπο άλλα και γενικά μεταξύ των Ελλήνων για το τι συμβαίνει και πως θα το αντιμετωπίσουμε. Αλλά ο τόνος είναι χαμηλός.  Για τα Ελληνικά δεδομένα είναι ψίθυρος.

Ναι η κατάσταση είναι φρικτή. Μετά τις πρόσφατες αυξήσεις στις τιμές προϊόντων γενικής χρήσης και του ΦΠΑ, όλες οι τιμές αυξάνονται καθημερινά. Χθες βράδυ φάγαμε σε ένα εστιατόριο που συχνάζουμε στο Μικρολίμανο. Από την τελευταία επίσκεψη λίγους μήνες πριν, οι τιμές έχουν αυξηθεί τουλάχιστον κατά 20%. Και αυτό είναι υπερβολικό για ένα ήδη ακριβό εστιατόριο για τα Ελληνικά δεδομένα. (Κατά την ταπεινή μου άποψη το Ελληνικό γεύμα έχει την καλύτερη σχέση ποιότητας – τιμής στην Ευρώπη).

Επίσης τη φετινή περίοδο έντονης  τουριστική κίνησης κάποιες εκπλήξεις περιμένουν τους τουρίστες. Δημοφιλείς προορισμοί όπως η Μύκονος έχουν εξωφρενικές τιμές διαμονής για τον Ιούλιο και τον Αύγουστο. Όλοι περιμένουν να ωφεληθούν από τις αναμενόμενες αυξήσεις στις τιμές. (Μια πανσιόν στη Χώρα στην οποία μπορεί να μείνει κανείς με 40 ευρώ σήμερα, κοστίζει 150 ευρώ μετά τις 15 Ιουλίου.) Και οι τιμές των πτήσεων εσωτερικού δε βοηθούν ιδιαίτερα. 

Το πρόβλημα με την αντίληψη των Ελλήνων είναι ότι δύσκολα αλλάζουν τις καθημερινές τους συνήθειες. Για τους περισσότερους από αυτούς οι καθημερινή εργασία είναι κάτι που πρέπει να κάνουν για να επιβιώσουν, αλλά είναι καλύτερα αν δουλεύουν λιγότερο όταν δεν τους βλέπει κανείς. Από την παραπάνω γενίκευση θα πρέπει να εξαιρέσουμε τους τομείς τουρισμού και ψυχαγωγίας  και από την εξαίρεση αυτή προκύπτουν συμπεράσματα για την κατάσταση που επικρατεί. Όμως τώρα που κερδίζουν λιγότερα συγκριτικά με τα προηγούμενα χρόνια, θα πρέπει να ξεκινήσουν δεύτερη δουλειά ή να εγκαταλείψουν τον πλούσιο τρόπο ζωής τους (το οποίο σημαίνει να μην αλλάζουν BMW κάθε δύο χρόνια, να μην πουλούν κάποια από τα πολλά ακίνητά τους ή να μην περνάνε κάθε βράδυ μη εργάσιμης μέρας ξοδεύοντας 150 ευρώ για ένα μπουκάλι συνηθισμένο Whisky σε συνηθισμένα μπουζούκια, και να ελαττώσουν σημαντικά τον αριθμό των ερωμένων τους).

Πολλοί ‘οικονομικοί οίκοι’ συμβουλεύουν την Ελλάδα να παρατείνει την ηλικία συνταξιοδότησης και να αναδιαρθρώσει το συνταξιοδοτικό της σύστημα για να εξισορροπήσει το εξωτερικό χρέος.  Η αντίθετη πραγματικότητα που δε φαίνεται να κατανοούν όσοι βγάζουν εύκολα συμπεράσματα είναι το γεγονός ότι η Ελλάδα βρίσκεται σε μια βαθιά αποξενωμένη κοινωνική κατάσταση. Και τα οικονομικά προβλήματα οφείλονται σε άλλες αιτίες. Η διαφθορά στην εκμετάλλευσης των πόρων της ειδικά όσων προέρχονται από την Ευρωπαϊκή Ένωση και η υπερβολική φορολογία της εργατικής της δύναμης ώστε να αναμορφωθούν τα έξοδα της πολιτείας είναι οι πραγματικοί εχθροί  ενάντια στη σωτηρία.

Καθώς νέες απεργίες και διαδηλώσεις προγραμματίζονται κάθε δέκα μέρες πλέον, το κοινό γενικά φαίνεται να μη γνωρίζει την επικείμενη μοίρα του. Συγκεντρώνονται μόνο στο να κάνουν σχέδια για τις καλοκαιρινές τους διακοπές.

Ο βασικός συντελεστής για την Ελληνική οικονομία το 2010 θα είναι η τύχη της τουριστικής σεζόν. Στην επόμενη απεργία στις 8 Ιουλίου θα συμμετέχουν για μια ακόμη φορά οι λιμενεργάτες του Πειραιά οι οποίοι θα σταματήσουν τη θαλάσσια κίνηση στην Ελλάδα για μια ακόμη μέρα. Έτσι οι επιβάτες θα υποχρεωθούν σε άλλες 48 άχρηστες ώρες στα ελληνικά νησιά όπου ο καθένας θα πρέπει να περάσει μία ακόμη μη προγραμματισμένη μέρα περιπλανώμενος και βρίζοντας το κατεστημένο. Μεγάλες εταιρείες κρουαζιέρας έχουν ήδη στείλει τελεσίγραφο, μετά την προηγούμενη απεργία της 29^ης Ιουνίου, ότι θα διακόψουν τις επισκέψεις τους στην Αθήνα αν συνεχιστούν οι απεργίες.

Έτσι, αν τα πρόσφατα δημοσιονομικά δεδομένα είναι ακριβή και η Ελλάδα έχει ήδη χάσει το 8% του ετήσιου τουριστικού εισοδήματος, τότε μάλλον θα είναι σε πολύ χειρότερη κατάσταση μέχρι το τέλος του χρόνου από ότι είχε προβλεφτεί τον περασμένο Μάιο.

Η παγκόσμια οικονομική κρίση μειώνει την όρεξη των αναμενόμενων επισκεπτών γεγονός το οποίο αν συνδυαστεί με την απληστία των Ελλήνων ιδιοκτητών που χρεώνουν περισσότερο, ίσως τελικά σκοτώσει τη μοναδική κότα που γεννά ακόμη χρυσά αυγά στην Ελλάδα. Και τότε δε θα υπάρχει τίποτα…

Social Media in Turkey: A New Power to the People or Self-Indulgence

For a few years now, Facebook is a popular hangout for many in Turkey. 84% of all Internet users have an account on Facebook says a report by ComScore. That puts the country on the third place for Facebook users Internationally. Although Internet penetration is still low at a 34% of the population, the vast population and the rate of increase on access in Turkey makes it an emerging power in social media.

The question is why Turks use social media? There is no relevant data but I will elaborate on my personal experience on that. First some data that could help shed some light on my observations. Bear in mind that Turkey's population is very young as compared to many developed nation.

38% of all Internet users in Turkey are between the ages of 15 and 24. Another 31% is between 25 and 34. We can comfortably say that 69% of Internet users in Turkey are young people. Turks spend and average of 29,7 hours per month online and that is only third worldwide after Canada and the U.S.

What do they do online? I have made a small research on Facebook. I have sampled all my contacts in Turkey (150+) and selected another 150 from their contacts. Out of this 300, 52% said on their info that they are looking for a relationship. 78% said their reason for being on Facebook is friendship. Only 17% said networking. (The percentages will not add up since people can give more than one reason for their online existence)

I have also went through the timelines and follower lists of my 400+ Twitter followers. 65% of the followers are from the opposite sex if you are a Turkish woman on Twitter. On my follower list biggest nationality groups are Americans, British and Dutch. I surveyed their followers and followers of their followers. The average rate is 55% for opposite sex followers in non-Turkish groups. Online flirting is very common in both groups, but unfortunately there was no way of distinguishing the unfollow rate due to unsolicited flirting or more obscene behavior.

As I might easily deduct that Facebook is more a meeting place for lonely hearts in Turkey, my analysis using online tools like Twitter Analyzer shows that (at least in my own environment) primary subjects are more social than individual. Many NGO's and political parties as well as government branches are using Twitter to create public opinion. This leads me to think that we should examine Twitter as a unique social media platform in contrast to ties competitors like Facebook, My Space and others. Turks tend to use Facebook, My Space. Turkish Mynet, Netlog, and Kalpkalbe in that order according to ComScore report. But surely Twitter is a rising star lately.
Deriving from my experience we can examine Turkish/related to Turkey tweeps in 4 groups;

1. News and op/ed bunch: Journalists, writers, NGO reps and so on...
2. Celebs of many kinds. I include most Turkish journalists in this group.
3. The mass majority
4. The attackers

Op/Ed Bunch

This is what I call the "real" twitter bunch. Maybe that's because I seem to belong to that group and their tweets enlightens me and very productive for me. It contains mostly International journalists, writers from all walks of life and some professors. This group is the most tolerant to opposing views and eager to correct any mistake and provide positive criticism. Helping each other in times of need on any subject is another characteristic of this group.
The members of this group also provide a very interesting insight to the present and the future of social media. Especially during the recent flotilla sent by a Turkish aid organization to Gaza, live reports on board became the only communication from the ships due to media blockage of Israeli Defense Forces. In my opinion future regional events would put social media into a more prominent position as far as news publishing and opinion casting are concerned. Already local traditional media is feeding from Twitter on a daily basis.

Celebs

This group is the code of anti-twitter. They are so self-indulgent that they continuously forget the fact that their followers (or people at large) is the one source they feed on. The general ignorance of Turkish celebrities is subject for another article. Here I'd only point out the newspaper columnists and alike on Twitter. This bunch, full of their ego filled by astronomical salaries paid by ever-competing media barons to survive in a country where almost no one reads a newspaper basically bullshit everyday, torment their followers and only talk about inter-celebrity gossip. They pride in how many followers they block everyday and call them names I'd not be able to repeat here.
I have witnessed even a TV talkshow presenter asking for questions to be forwarded to his guest two hours before the show on Twitter. And during his show which lasted over one and a half hours ended up ignoring all questions asked online. One problem is they know how shallow and overfed they are. In a way Twitter has become their revenge from the society which makes fun of them and torrents them in every opportunity. Also Twitter has proven that this group is totally language illiterate. When you insult them in, say, English they just ignore the tweet. But when you criticize even lightly in Turkish they immediately slam you with a block. I think they are a sorry bunch, yet represent the society's approach to things they couldn't grasp.

Masses

Of course this group contains many sub-categories. Most are upper-level income groups. Self-proclaimed intellectuals. Penetration of social media into various low income, low culture groups in Turkey is yet to come.
But herein lies the real power of social media. There is great talent in this bunch. Many books can be published just by following these young talents. They feel free to mess with the literary rules, grammar and everything related to traditional approach to writing. These gems usually have blogs that I frequent a lot and learn more than anyone can imagine possible. They are fluent in many languages and follow a variety of opinion as well as artistic tendencies.
Another group is the "protesters". They attract attention to many social and political woes of Turkey. Human Rights, nature, etc. organizations and many opinionated individuals fills that group. In some special days, these groups turn into think-tanks and come up with great and innovative ideas to change public opinion. In others, they may become stubborn idiosyncrasies of ideology. A recent protest against Turkish Prime Minister trended as #NoTayyip became a social phenomenon. Many new accounts created just to join this campaign in fears of public prosecution.
The followers of this campaign, sometimes pressuring their peers to contribute aimed at trending the hashtag of NoTayyip worldwide. Although unsuccessful on that front the campaign made the news nationwide and started a twitter-wide discussion about the success or failure of the current government in Turkey.

Attackers

And the last but not the least of twitter personalities in Turkey is a group I'd call attackers. These are generally ultra-nationalists, not a minority in Turkey, who get accounts just to attack a few targeted individuals and then get banned by Twitter until they renew their attacks under a different name. They also send nationalist propaganda tweets as to how Turks are superior to every nation and how Turkey is threatened by foreign powers and such in a very offensive language.
The interesting fact about this group is how often their tweets get retweeted by ordinary people when they show up in keyword searches. They seem to act like an outspoken voice of public in large. They voice the subconscious fears and thoughts of the average Turk injected by a very biased and nationalistic educational system.
In short social media crowd in Turkey is young, progressive and active, yet still bound by the limits of a very traditional and closed-up society. When you follow their wisdom, sometimes the truth loses its meaning under a curtain of perceived facts replacing crude reality.


The hope of social media as a form of enlightenment lures in the horizon though. Internet users in Turkey increase exponentially each year. And as the penetration and pure number of people utilizing it would increase, the power of new media will be felt throughout the deepest corners of Turkish society. And I'm hoping among hopes that a new generation of well-versed young professionals would replace the supporters of status-quo in the media in the near future. They will be the golden key for Turkey to introduce its assets to the civilized world.

'Subdued' is The Key

I have spent plenty of time in Greece and her islands in my life. I have seen post Junta days. I have witnessed small or large economical woes. Heck, my family history is a good proof to how Greeks can put themselves into trouble.

In modern times, I have seen many strikes and public demonstrations that are a simple fact of Greek life. But my experiences today, June 29th, 2010 and last few days I spent in Greece are in total contrast to how I felt during my visits of the last few decades.

First of all when on earth us Greeks started to talk low-key? When did we learn to shut up and mourn for ourselves? When our eyes started to gaze at our toes instead of blue skies? When did we become the most muted animals in Europe? As in many other events, of course there is a cacophony in the press and among Greeks in general about what is happening and what to do with that. But the tone is hushed. Everybody basically whispers in Greek standards.

Yes, the situation is dire. After the recent increases in utility prices and the VAT, all prices are increasing everyday. Last night we ate at a restaurant we frequent in Mikrolimani. From the last visit a few months ago prices have gone up at least 20%. And that was too much for an already expensive restaurant especially in Greek standards. (In my humble opinion Greek dining has the best value on price in Europe)


Also this high season, some surprises are awaiting the usual tourist bunch. Popular places like Mykonos have outrageous bed prices set out for July and August. Everybody is getting in line to benefit from the expected hikes in prices. (A pension in Mykonos town in which you can bed for 40 Euros tonight is asking for 150 Euros after July 15th.) And domestic flight prices don't help either.

The problem with the perception of Greeks is that, they can hardly change their daily habits. For most of them daily work is something they have to do to survive, but its better if they can do less without anyone noticing it. To give credit to where it's due we need to exclude tourism and entertainment industries from this generalization, which in itself gives us clues for the situation. But now they earn less comparatively, they either will revert to secondary jobs or will have to give up the lush lifestyles (which means not changing their BMW's every two years, selling some of their abundant number of real estate or not spending every non-workday evening spending 150 Euros on third class bottle of whiskey at a third class bouzoukia, and even reducing number of mistresses by a substantial number).

Many fiscal 'authorities' are giving advice to Greece to extend the age of retirement and reform the pension system to balance her foreign debt. The contrasting reality which these speakeasy people don't seem to realize is the fact that Greece is in a very deeply uprooted social state. And her economical problems lay elsewhere. Corruption on the utilization of resources especially coming from EU and overtaxation of its work force to rehabilitate the state expenditures are the real foes irking against the bsalvation.

As new strikes and protests are scheduled for every ten days now, the public in general seem not to be aware of the imminent fate. They are concentrated on making their summer plans.

The key factor in 2010 for Greek economy will be the fate of tourism season. Next strike on July 8th will once more include the harbor workers at Peireas which in turn will stop sea traffic in Greece for another day. Which in turn will render another 48 hours useless in most of the Greek islands where everybody will be stuck to spend another unplanned day wandering around and cursing the establishment. Large cruise companies have already sent their ultimatum that they will cut their visits to Athens if that happens again after the previous June 29 strike.

So, if the recent fiscal data is correct and if Greece has already lost 8% of her tourism income this year already, she might end the year in a worse situation as far as the fiscal numbers go, than these were reflecting in past May.

Global economic crisis lowering the appetite of prospective visitors, coupled with the greediness of Greek establishment owners to charge more might finally kill one chicken who still lays golden eggs for Greece. And then, there would be none...

One Subdued Summer

People are looking like they move slower.

I arrived at Xios island at 19:30. It was a bumpy boat ride. In my whole life I made that trip on San Nicholas. It's a small boat that acts like a dolphin among the waves. She's speedy. I call her "the U-boat". However this time, lured by my old travel agent who used to sell San Nicholas tickets, I traveled on a boat called "Chios". She was a lot slower and I was one of two passengers on it.

In end-June, 19:30 streets of Xios should have been more lively. It is an outpost of an island really. Its population is mainly people originally from Xios, migrants of western Asia Minor. It lost a lot of its sons and daughters to the United States. So, at the bars and tavernas all summer long, Greeklish is the common language.
Not this June. My taxi driver complained naturally. Kefeneion on the corner of the harbor was deserted. Stray dogs did not run after the car as usual. Normally buzzing travel agents were closed due to time of the day. (Or lack of customers) The flight to Athens was crowded though. Mostly businessmen and traveling locals.

Greece is weird this summer. People are staring at their toes. Yesterday the harbor workers were on strike. No ship left or arrived at Peireas. People were stranded on islands or at the capital. Both the victims and the strikers raised their voices. But there were no newspaper or TV station to report these events. Because today journalists were on strike. I watched today's WorldCup games without any commentary. I once more realized how disturbing the effect of vuvuzela was. God, it's awful!

Plans and preoccupations aside, I will try to understand more this new psyche in Greece. Maybe partying time is over for real for Greece. Even that previous sentence sounds like an oxymoron when heard. Where everything is supposed to be loud and pronounced, this silence can drive you mad.

Having coffee at Kitchen Bar at Marina Zeas today, I observed my fellow patrons. They came, ate or drink dutifully and went on their chores. Except for a young mother, enthusing about her newborn, all was acting behind a gossamer screen. As if they were ghosts of a unsure future.

Of course it is still middle of the week. Of course all will be different during the weekend. We shall live and see. But if Europe is losing its last resort of dolce vita, what kind of heritage we would leave for our kids, I wonder.

μια κούκλα που τη λένε «Ελένη»

Έπινε αργά αργά τον τούρκικο καφέ της. Ναι ήταν ηλικιωμένη. Αλλά σταθερή σαν βράχος. Δεν ταράζονταν, δεν έτρεμε. Τα μάτια της κοιτούσαν σταθερά τη θάλασσα. Τα μάτια της που είχαν δει τα πάντα ήταν κολλημένα στα κόκκινα σύννεφα στη δύση του ήλιου.

Το βλέμμα της ατένιζε τους περαστικούς του σήμερα και του χθες.  Ανθρώπους που δεν έβλεπε. Ανθρώπους που δεν αναγνώριζε. Tους κοιτούσε μα δεν τους έβλεπε.  Χρόνος.  Στράφηκε και παράγγειλε ένα δεύτερο καφέ και λίγο ακόμη νερό. 

Τότε ήταν που συνάντησα το βλέμμα της. Με κοίταξε ρωτώντας με τόσα πολλά χωρίς να ξεστομίσει ούτε μία λέξη. Είδα στη ματιά της ανάμικτο φόβο και περιέργεια. Τα χείλη μου πρόφεραν ‘γεια σας’. Το πρόσωπό της φωτιστικέ. Ένα όμορφο πλατύ χαμόγελο εισέβαλε στο πρόσωπό της. Ανταλλάξαμε ένα νεύμα.

Βρήκα το κουράγιο να πάω να της μιλήσω. Κάθονταν τουλάχιστον μία ώρα εκεί μόνη της. Ακολούθησα το σερβιτόρο που της έφερνε το δεύτερο καφέ και στράφηκα προς το μέρος της.

«Μπορώ να καθίσω;»

«Φυσικά»

Οι πιο πολύτιμες λέξεις της ζωής μου! Καθώς καθόμουν στην  πολυθρόνα πλάι της δεν ήξερα πως να την αποκαλέσω. Ήθελα να την φωνάξω «γιαγιά». Σκέφτηκα πως θα έδειχνε έλλειψη σεβασμού. Τη ρώτησα το όνομά της. Μου το είπε. Δεν μπορώ να το αποκαλύψω μιας και αργότερα μου ζήτησε να διατηρήσω την ανωνυμία της. Και η ιστορία της εξηγεί το γιατί.

Γεννήθηκε το 1918 που σημαίνει ότι είναι 92 χρονών σήμερα. Κοιτώντας τη δε φαντάζεσαι ότι είναι τόσο. Μοιάζει με 70. Και συμπεριφέρεται σα νεώτερη. Αλλά φαίνεται ανήσυχη.  Όταν γεννήθηκε, η Σμύρνη ήταν η Σμύρνη. Φυσικά δεν έχει προσωπικές αναμνήσεις από την εποχή εκείνη. Αλλά μεγάλωσε με ιστορίες και αναμνήσεις των ανθρώπων γύρω της. Η οικογένειά της αναγκάστηκε να εγκαταλείψει το σπίτι τους που κάηκε στην καταστροφή του 1922. Μετακόμισαν στο σπίτι συγγενών τους κοντά στην Ούρλα, περίπου 50 χιλιόμετρα από τη Σμύρνη. Κατάγεται από μια γνήσια Σμυρναϊκή οικογένεια με ρίζες που χάνονται εκατοντάδες χρόνια πριν. Ο πατέρας της ήταν έμπορος. Αλλά ποιος δεν ήταν εκείνη την εποχή; Φυσικά η επιχείρηση του καταστράφηκε από τη φωτιά.

Αρνήθηκαν να πάνε στην Ελλάδα κατά την ανταλλαγή πληθυσμού. Χρησιμοποίησαν παράνομα μέσα για να παραμείνουν. Αλλά τα χρόνια ήταν άγρια. Δεν μπορούσαν να μιλάνε τη μητρική τους γλώσσα στις καθημερινές τους σχέσεις. Όπως οι περισσότεροι χρησιμοποιούσαν τα γαλλικά σαν γλώσσα επικοινωνίας. Η ελληνική γλώσσα αντικαταστάθηκε από τη γαλλική μεταξύ των μη μουσουλμάνων της πόλης.

Η φωτιά και οι άλλες καταστροφές της κυβέρνησης τους άφησαν χωρίς ούτε μια εκκλησία, και στην πραγματικότητα χωρίς τα βασικά μέσα μιας κοινότητας. Παντού επικρατούσαν σκληρές συνθήκες. Κάθε μέλος της οικογένειας έπρεπε βρει μια δουλειά.

Έπιασε δουλειά σαν υπηρέτρια σε μια χανούμ. Μια μέρα καθώς επέστρεφε στο σπίτι της από τη δουλειά είδε μια παλιά κούκλα πεσμένη στο πεζοδρόμιο. Θυμάται. Η κούκλα είχε ξανθά μαλιά και μεταξωτά ρούχα. Τα μάτια της ήταν γαλάζια. Φοβόταν να την αγγίξει. Πλησίασε αργά την κούκλα. Κοίταξε γύρω της να δει αν υπήρχε κανείς.  Ο λεηλατημένος  δρόμος ήταν έρημος.  Αλλά δεν ήταν σίγουρη για τον αν υπήρχε κάποιος στα γύρω ερείπια. Περίμενε.

Όταν βεβαιώθηκε πως δεν υπήρχε κανείς γύρω για να την δει, άρπαξε την κούκλα και έτρεξε μακριά. Έτρεχε γρήγορα μέχρι που έφτασε στο σπίτι της. Έδωσε στην κούκλα το όνομα ‘Ελένη’.  Με ρώτησε αν ήθελα να τη δω.

Ζούσε τη ζωή κάποιας άλλης. Για όλη της τη ζωή ήταν μία από τους ‘Άλλους’. Έμαθε να περπατάει στα νύχια των ποδιών της. Ποτέ δεν έκανε πολύ θόρυβο. Ποτέ δεν προκάλεσε μεγάλη προσοχή πάνω της. Δεν παντρεύτηκε ποτέ. Δεν τραγούδησε ποτέ δυνατά.

Τη ρώτησα «και τώρα;». Μου απαντά δεν υπάρχει «τώρα». Της λέω κάθεστε σε ένα ελληνικό καφέ και ακούτε ελληνική μουσική. Δεν το απολαμβάνετε έστω και λίγο? Μου απάντησε με μια ερώτηση: «Εσύ το απολαμβάνεις;»

Έχει δίκιο. Όλα χάθηκαν τώρα πια. Το πνεύμα έχει εγκαταλείψει την πόλη. Είναι ένα καταφύγιο για συνταξιούχους, φοιτητές και εργάτες που έρχονται και φεύγουν. Και λίγους περιστασιακούς τουρίστες.

Η Τουρκία έχει αλλάξει. Το ίδιο και η Ελλάδα. Αλλά η Σμύρνη και οι γνήσιοι άνθρωποί της έχουν παραμείνει ίδιοι. Μια γενιά φαντασμάτων του παρελθόντος. Που δεν ανήκουν πουθενά. Που ανήκουν σε έναν τόπο που δεν υπάρχει πια. Η ζωή της δεν έχει καμιά ελπίδα σε οποιαδήποτε φάση. Αλλά έχει ζωή. Μια ζωή που επαναλαμβάνεται σε οποιαδήποτε γεωγραφία. Μια ζωή ξεχασμένων εθνικοτήτων.  Σκόπιμα συντετριμένες ζωές.  Ζωές των ερειπίων 3000 χρόνων κουλτούρας.

Καθώς την άφηνα να φύγει, της έδωσα ένα φιλί στο μάγουλο. Ήταν μια υπενθύμιση ότι δεν ήμουν μόνος. Ήταν μια υπενθύμιση πως ούτε κι εκείνη ήταν μόνη. Η κοινότητα μιας χούφτας απομεινάρια.

Ψιθύρισε: «Ευχαριστώ»

Επέστρεψε στο μικρό της σπίτι. Στο σπίτι όπου σε ένα μικρό δωμάτιο υπάρχει μια κούκλα που τη λένε «Ελένη». 




My heartfelt thanks to Ms. Nancy Georgantzi for the excellent translation. Without her that story could have never be told.