Reflecting on the meaning of the word "cosmopolitan"... Literally from the Greek - meaning "citizens of the world".
I'm sitting by the pool in my hotel in Istanbul. Behind me sits a Russian Jew (his diamond encrusted Star of David and thick Moscow accent give the game away). Two loungers down a Saudi Arabian family sit quietly, man with jet black died hair and moustache, women wearing conservative "leisure" attire and hair covered. A Turkish woman, covered with an amazing tattoo of a snake which wraps her torso twice swims wearing - if I'm not mistaken - a Versace bikini...
A British couple chirp away quietly next to another Turkish couple playing tavla (Backgammon) and smoking vigorously.
A pair of Arab ladies of uncertain origin (they could be Lebanese, Egyptian or Jordanian) linger in the pool switching between Arabic, French and English in their discussion about nothing much in particular.
A family of Greeks warble vocally - as Greeks do - but look slightly insecure... As Greeks do in Turkey...
And a German is classically teutonic proportions patrols the poolside - his "proportions" spilling over his ill-advised speedos. Perhaps he is just exercising in a traditional marching kind of way, or maybe he is sun lounger spotting... Who knows.
Nothing unusual about an international capital like Istanbul welcoming so many different nationalities, races and religions to it's heart. After all, this city has been the centre of three empires and host to great stepping stones in history - not to mention straddling the East and West.
What is remarkable - say in comparison to Dubai or other so called "cosmopolitan" cities in the Gulf - is how at ease everyone is here (maybe with the exception of my Greek cousins whose nervosity is perhaps explained by history married to the modern Greek psyche)...
These people may be tourists or weekend visitors but their comfort and ease is totally representative of the people who live here full time.
Everyone fits and integrates in Istanbul. In fact I can't think of another city in the world which creates such a natural platform for people to come together and feel together.
"Cosmopolitan" therefore is not just about amassing large numbers of foreigners in one place. It is about stimulating them and integrating them - through culture, through business, through simply living life side by side.
Of course it is easy for me to say - I am a full time "cosmopolitis" or citizen of the world. Not only because of where I am, but also what and who I am.
"Cosmopolitan" is not a state or situation - it is a state of mind or an attitude that is inspired. Istanbul inspires it. Dubai does not...but it might in the future if it learns to adopt people rather than collect them. If it learns to give as well as to take. If it learns to build foundations that will last. The same applies to all those vying to become global cities.
Look to history and see what made global cities global and great - whether New York, Istanbul, Hong Kong, Paris, Rome or London. Over different centuries and over many centuries these cities gave people not only a reason to come but also a reason to stay.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Merakli a la Mardin...
Mardin is a city in South Eastern Turkey close to the Kurdish part and it is famous for its food and the "tree of life"...
Cercis Murat Konagi is a taste of Mardin in Istanbul on the Anatolian (Asian) side of the city in the Suadiye district by the Bosphorous looking out to the Marmara sea. (www.cercismurat.com)
I dined there with friends / business partners tonight and I am still in rapture....
The food is divine. The service is warm and the environment lovely - especially on a warm, humid summer evening with a gentle breeze blowing from the Bosphorous and across from the islands in the Marmara sea.
First decisions are taken - we will drink rake - the Turkish cousin of Arak / Raki and we will begin with mezze... And thus mazmiz to excite our eyes, stimulate our taste buds and start preparing the stomachs for a feast...
A salad of pickled peppers and herbs, mouhamara Kurdish / Surian style, aubergine salad (babaghanoush style), lentils, caper berries, medium hot red chilli peppers tamed by parsley and oil, spiced butter beans doused with fresh yoghurt, thick luscious strained yoghurt to accompany and warm breads - some with caraway and aniseed, some plain and charred for flavour... All exquisitely served on Mardin traditional metal mezze dishes with each salad in a long cast spoon to be passed around the table...and shalgam...
Shalgam is very popular in Southern Turkey and is a drink made with black carrots and turnips that have been salted heavily and then fermented with bulghur wheat. There is a variation of Shalgam in India also apparently, but here it becomes a slightly viscous cloudy drink of a dark purple hue - and looks very imperial...
It is certainly an acquired taste which I can only describe as being similar to very bitter carrot juice with lots of salt...but it is curiously refreshing and is said to cancel out the effects of rake... It also tastes immensely healthy. I acquired the taste...if you get the chance to try really fresh homemade shalgam like this then do it.
From the mezze we departed to sample other delights from the Mardin cuisine - including the Mardin variation on Iclik Kofte... Normally iclik kofte are like Levantine Kibbeh or Cypriot Koupes - but in Mardin the stuffed meat enclosure is slightly closer to Arayes in the Levant - but there is a soft dough folded around the spiced meat filling like a duvet and then it is layered on top with yoghurt with spices...
MY GOD this is a food sensation. Texture and taste combine to leave one diner - namely me - almost speechless... This is special food. I begin to contemplate the idea of acquiring a wife from Mardin. Food this good should be eaten more often!
Then Mardin's take on lahmacun - often called the Turkish pizza...except the Mardin version is more like a calzone or an Argentinean empanada with the dough wrapped around the filling and then baked... Also delicious.
Then as we have moved to meat we move on properly to two gorgeous lamb specialities from the Mardin area. Spiced lamb cubes stewed with quinces - a very subtle dish with balanced flavours and deliciously tender meat with the firm quince pieces finished with a gentle but important spice note from pepper and chili.
This was served with an incredible piece of lamb stuffed with two kinds of rice served on bulghur with oil, tomatoes and nuts including almonds and chestnuts - reminding me a little of Mansaf - the Jordanian Bedouin goat dish - except this dish lacked the yoghurt.
The waiter peeled away the skin and fat from the piece of lamb and discarded bones in front of our table. He then stripped the lamb and mixed the rices with the bulghur and served us. Wonderful aromas filled our nostrils as wonderful sights entertained our eyes... And the food was truly delicious.
I began to wonder if my Mardin wife would be beautiful as well as a great cook - finally deciding that she could actually have a beard as long as she could cook this well and I would still be happy!
I drank another glass of shalgam and more rake...
Cool fresh fruit including some sensational dark cherries were served as a desert and then some coffee - similar to Arabic coffee but incredibly strong was brought for us in Arabic style thimble cups.
Then Turkish coffee served in amazing silver cups and saucers on a velvet ringed platform...and a dome to cover them and keep them hot...together with cinnamon biscuits from Mardin and some impressively chewy lokum or Turkish delight.
A waiter came with a large metal bowl and a jug of heavily scented rose water to wash our hands before a tea glass of fresh lemon juice and ginger was served as a final palate cleanser and digestif.
Maybe you have to be there to get the full feeling - but this was a repeated "Oh My God!" meal as each taste and flavour unfolded from the mezze to the lemon juice & ginger... This accompanied good natured conversation with my Turkish vocabulary increasing twofold and my gastro/sociological history of the South East of Turkey growing exponentially.
This is what great dining is about and this was a great meal.
One final note is the "Tree of Life" myth of Mardin where apparently they believe in a sacred tree where the shamen comes from - a tree that if you find it you must sit under it and it will bring you a longer life... As a result there is arborial imagery in every aspect of the restaurant from delightful lamps to sculptures and the restaurant's motif.
To be honest - if it is as hot in Mardin as it was in Istanbul today, then sitting under any tree and catching the shade has to prolong one's life anyway. Whether it's the right tree or not...
And now to sleep and dream of my journey to Mardin and the search for a beautiful Mardin wife who knows how to cook and whose dad owns a vineyard...
Cercis Murat Konagi is a taste of Mardin in Istanbul on the Anatolian (Asian) side of the city in the Suadiye district by the Bosphorous looking out to the Marmara sea. (www.cercismurat.com)
I dined there with friends / business partners tonight and I am still in rapture....
The food is divine. The service is warm and the environment lovely - especially on a warm, humid summer evening with a gentle breeze blowing from the Bosphorous and across from the islands in the Marmara sea.
First decisions are taken - we will drink rake - the Turkish cousin of Arak / Raki and we will begin with mezze... And thus mazmiz to excite our eyes, stimulate our taste buds and start preparing the stomachs for a feast...
A salad of pickled peppers and herbs, mouhamara Kurdish / Surian style, aubergine salad (babaghanoush style), lentils, caper berries, medium hot red chilli peppers tamed by parsley and oil, spiced butter beans doused with fresh yoghurt, thick luscious strained yoghurt to accompany and warm breads - some with caraway and aniseed, some plain and charred for flavour... All exquisitely served on Mardin traditional metal mezze dishes with each salad in a long cast spoon to be passed around the table...and shalgam...
Shalgam is very popular in Southern Turkey and is a drink made with black carrots and turnips that have been salted heavily and then fermented with bulghur wheat. There is a variation of Shalgam in India also apparently, but here it becomes a slightly viscous cloudy drink of a dark purple hue - and looks very imperial...
It is certainly an acquired taste which I can only describe as being similar to very bitter carrot juice with lots of salt...but it is curiously refreshing and is said to cancel out the effects of rake... It also tastes immensely healthy. I acquired the taste...if you get the chance to try really fresh homemade shalgam like this then do it.
From the mezze we departed to sample other delights from the Mardin cuisine - including the Mardin variation on Iclik Kofte... Normally iclik kofte are like Levantine Kibbeh or Cypriot Koupes - but in Mardin the stuffed meat enclosure is slightly closer to Arayes in the Levant - but there is a soft dough folded around the spiced meat filling like a duvet and then it is layered on top with yoghurt with spices...
MY GOD this is a food sensation. Texture and taste combine to leave one diner - namely me - almost speechless... This is special food. I begin to contemplate the idea of acquiring a wife from Mardin. Food this good should be eaten more often!
Then Mardin's take on lahmacun - often called the Turkish pizza...except the Mardin version is more like a calzone or an Argentinean empanada with the dough wrapped around the filling and then baked... Also delicious.
Then as we have moved to meat we move on properly to two gorgeous lamb specialities from the Mardin area. Spiced lamb cubes stewed with quinces - a very subtle dish with balanced flavours and deliciously tender meat with the firm quince pieces finished with a gentle but important spice note from pepper and chili.
This was served with an incredible piece of lamb stuffed with two kinds of rice served on bulghur with oil, tomatoes and nuts including almonds and chestnuts - reminding me a little of Mansaf - the Jordanian Bedouin goat dish - except this dish lacked the yoghurt.
The waiter peeled away the skin and fat from the piece of lamb and discarded bones in front of our table. He then stripped the lamb and mixed the rices with the bulghur and served us. Wonderful aromas filled our nostrils as wonderful sights entertained our eyes... And the food was truly delicious.
I began to wonder if my Mardin wife would be beautiful as well as a great cook - finally deciding that she could actually have a beard as long as she could cook this well and I would still be happy!
I drank another glass of shalgam and more rake...
Cool fresh fruit including some sensational dark cherries were served as a desert and then some coffee - similar to Arabic coffee but incredibly strong was brought for us in Arabic style thimble cups.
Then Turkish coffee served in amazing silver cups and saucers on a velvet ringed platform...and a dome to cover them and keep them hot...together with cinnamon biscuits from Mardin and some impressively chewy lokum or Turkish delight.
A waiter came with a large metal bowl and a jug of heavily scented rose water to wash our hands before a tea glass of fresh lemon juice and ginger was served as a final palate cleanser and digestif.
Maybe you have to be there to get the full feeling - but this was a repeated "Oh My God!" meal as each taste and flavour unfolded from the mezze to the lemon juice & ginger... This accompanied good natured conversation with my Turkish vocabulary increasing twofold and my gastro/sociological history of the South East of Turkey growing exponentially.
This is what great dining is about and this was a great meal.
One final note is the "Tree of Life" myth of Mardin where apparently they believe in a sacred tree where the shamen comes from - a tree that if you find it you must sit under it and it will bring you a longer life... As a result there is arborial imagery in every aspect of the restaurant from delightful lamps to sculptures and the restaurant's motif.
To be honest - if it is as hot in Mardin as it was in Istanbul today, then sitting under any tree and catching the shade has to prolong one's life anyway. Whether it's the right tree or not...
And now to sleep and dream of my journey to Mardin and the search for a beautiful Mardin wife who knows how to cook and whose dad owns a vineyard...
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Istanbul... Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon...
With apologies to the great Ray Davies...!
Up to Taksim, down Istiklal, turn off into the back streets of Beyoglu and through to Faik Pasa St where I am looking at some apartments for rent. It's a lovely street, windy, ramshackle and in need of a lick of paint in parts... Crammed full of antique shops and bric a brac, and an art gallery lifting the sophistication a little. Crammed full of character too.
I could live in this street. It's not the place I have my heart set on - that apartment isn't free for a while - but I might well take somewhere here until my dream apartment in Galata is free.
Wandering through Tomtom past the elegant Italian Ambassador's residence (OF COURSE the Italian Ambassador's residence is elegant!) and up a narrow laneway past the Dutch Embassy and on to Istiklal again - Las Ramblas of Istanbul...
An instinctive turn off Istiklal towards the Pera side and I wander through the laneways weaving a pattern through the charming buildings of Beyoglu resplendent in their neoclassical grandeur - some polished and proud, some faded and forlorn - but all reminding one of the glorious past.
Galip Dede is the Tin Pan Alley, the West 48th Street of Istanbul...packed with music stores selling guitars, baglama (traditional Turkish - and Greek - folk instrument), and all manner of drums, timpany and assorted other sound making devices. Heaven.
The sun is out and so are the smiling, happy people of Istanbul. Colourful clothes contrast with the colourful backdrops of the street and birdsong mixes with distant Byzantine scales, fruit vendors shouting their offers and the general hubbub of the street...
I have worked up a thirst so I stop at an eaterie in the shadow of Galata Kulesi (Galata Tower) and quickly drown several cold beers. Refreshed in terms of thirst I turn to the hunger part of the equation...
Fresh lahmacun - a kind of Turkish meat pizza served with some freshly shredded lettuce and lemon juice - is accompanied by haydari - a thick strained yoghurt laced with garlic and fennel and a plate of ezme salad - tomatoes pulped with spicy peppers, onion and olive oil with plenty of kick. Mopping up with delicious fresh bread that is doughy and chewy and almost a meal in itself.
In a nearby music store the proprietor plays baglamas through an amplifier and the sound of the Anatolian spirit that haunts the music from Greece to Central Asia and works to a Byzantine scale wafts across the square and provides the perfect accompaniment to my meal.
Oh how blessed I am to be able to have these moments of pure and utter contentment and joy. My heaven is perhaps someone else's hell - but I am able to taste this joy with comparative regularity and that is a true blessing.
And now I'm ready to head for the airport, my lungs filled with Istanbul, my eyes excited by her sights, by ears intoxicated by her sounds and my soul tantalised by her possibilities. My heart torn between the sadness of departure and the longing for return.
Who could not be inspired by Istanbul - for it is both inspired and inspirational.
Until the next time dear city. . . Until the next time.
Up to Taksim, down Istiklal, turn off into the back streets of Beyoglu and through to Faik Pasa St where I am looking at some apartments for rent. It's a lovely street, windy, ramshackle and in need of a lick of paint in parts... Crammed full of antique shops and bric a brac, and an art gallery lifting the sophistication a little. Crammed full of character too.
I could live in this street. It's not the place I have my heart set on - that apartment isn't free for a while - but I might well take somewhere here until my dream apartment in Galata is free.
Wandering through Tomtom past the elegant Italian Ambassador's residence (OF COURSE the Italian Ambassador's residence is elegant!) and up a narrow laneway past the Dutch Embassy and on to Istiklal again - Las Ramblas of Istanbul...
An instinctive turn off Istiklal towards the Pera side and I wander through the laneways weaving a pattern through the charming buildings of Beyoglu resplendent in their neoclassical grandeur - some polished and proud, some faded and forlorn - but all reminding one of the glorious past.
Galip Dede is the Tin Pan Alley, the West 48th Street of Istanbul...packed with music stores selling guitars, baglama (traditional Turkish - and Greek - folk instrument), and all manner of drums, timpany and assorted other sound making devices. Heaven.
The sun is out and so are the smiling, happy people of Istanbul. Colourful clothes contrast with the colourful backdrops of the street and birdsong mixes with distant Byzantine scales, fruit vendors shouting their offers and the general hubbub of the street...
I have worked up a thirst so I stop at an eaterie in the shadow of Galata Kulesi (Galata Tower) and quickly drown several cold beers. Refreshed in terms of thirst I turn to the hunger part of the equation...
Fresh lahmacun - a kind of Turkish meat pizza served with some freshly shredded lettuce and lemon juice - is accompanied by haydari - a thick strained yoghurt laced with garlic and fennel and a plate of ezme salad - tomatoes pulped with spicy peppers, onion and olive oil with plenty of kick. Mopping up with delicious fresh bread that is doughy and chewy and almost a meal in itself.
In a nearby music store the proprietor plays baglamas through an amplifier and the sound of the Anatolian spirit that haunts the music from Greece to Central Asia and works to a Byzantine scale wafts across the square and provides the perfect accompaniment to my meal.
Oh how blessed I am to be able to have these moments of pure and utter contentment and joy. My heaven is perhaps someone else's hell - but I am able to taste this joy with comparative regularity and that is a true blessing.
And now I'm ready to head for the airport, my lungs filled with Istanbul, my eyes excited by her sights, by ears intoxicated by her sounds and my soul tantalised by her possibilities. My heart torn between the sadness of departure and the longing for return.
Who could not be inspired by Istanbul - for it is both inspired and inspirational.
Until the next time dear city. . . Until the next time.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Istanbul - Night Boats on the Bosphorus...
Went with friends to see an apartment which a friend of theirs is renting... way beyond my budget but oh what a fabulous view!
To the left of the balcony, Dolmabahce Palace, Ciragan Palace and Ortakoy Mosque and the First bridge (of the two bridges that cross the Bosphorus and join Asia with Europe) and lit in colours, changing the lighting design and colour every few minutes.
In front the Bosphorus, serene, graceful, mysterious and alluring with the lights of the city shimmering reflections to the Asian side, night boats chugging gently through.
To the right, Topkapi, the Blue Mosque and Agia Sophia over in Sultanahmet and the old city district of Fatih.
It is a view to kill for with a long balcony perfect for the comfortable chairs small tables and tomato plants that live on it. A small barbecue in the cornet just big enough to sit and grill a few fish, sardines maybe or a tsipoura (or sea bream)....
And there is a fireplace inside in the sitting room for winter and a cosy seating area. All in all a wonderful place, but too expensive unfortunately for the kind of use I would have for it and too big for one person's "pied a terre"...
Tomorrow I will take my breakfast in one of the cafes by the street markets in the lanes of Ortakoy and watch the ferry boats cross to Asia and then I will go and look at a place in Bebek near the Bosphorus University... I have a feeling this might be the place for me.
I have a great affinity with this neighbourhood and there are superb walks to be had along the Bosphorus watching the fishermen. This is a place I could come to and sit and write songs, read books, stroll aimlessly, listen to music and enjoy a glass of wine in the terrace bar of the Bebek hotel or eat fish and drink raki by the sea.
But tonight I sat on a wonderful Istanbul balcony, ate fresh juicy cherries, drank red wine, indulged in gentle good humoured conversation and watched the night boats pass through the Bosphorus.
And that was perfect.
To the left of the balcony, Dolmabahce Palace, Ciragan Palace and Ortakoy Mosque and the First bridge (of the two bridges that cross the Bosphorus and join Asia with Europe) and lit in colours, changing the lighting design and colour every few minutes.
In front the Bosphorus, serene, graceful, mysterious and alluring with the lights of the city shimmering reflections to the Asian side, night boats chugging gently through.
To the right, Topkapi, the Blue Mosque and Agia Sophia over in Sultanahmet and the old city district of Fatih.
It is a view to kill for with a long balcony perfect for the comfortable chairs small tables and tomato plants that live on it. A small barbecue in the cornet just big enough to sit and grill a few fish, sardines maybe or a tsipoura (or sea bream)....
And there is a fireplace inside in the sitting room for winter and a cosy seating area. All in all a wonderful place, but too expensive unfortunately for the kind of use I would have for it and too big for one person's "pied a terre"...
Tomorrow I will take my breakfast in one of the cafes by the street markets in the lanes of Ortakoy and watch the ferry boats cross to Asia and then I will go and look at a place in Bebek near the Bosphorus University... I have a feeling this might be the place for me.
I have a great affinity with this neighbourhood and there are superb walks to be had along the Bosphorus watching the fishermen. This is a place I could come to and sit and write songs, read books, stroll aimlessly, listen to music and enjoy a glass of wine in the terrace bar of the Bebek hotel or eat fish and drink raki by the sea.
But tonight I sat on a wonderful Istanbul balcony, ate fresh juicy cherries, drank red wine, indulged in gentle good humoured conversation and watched the night boats pass through the Bosphorus.
And that was perfect.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Istanbul... Istanbul...
Arrived in the city last night and instead of spending my night in my hotel room working hard on my presentation for today, I went out to dinner with one of my colleagues and his fiance who were holidaying here. Obviously a much better call - even though it immediately meant getting up with the sparrows or pulling an all nighter...
The Four Seasons Sultanahmet and a lovely dinner in the courtyard restaurant sitting outside. Pink champagne, a respectable Turkish Sauvignon Blanc, squid ink pasta and a lovely aged sirloin... Perfect.
The Maitre D - an Australian lady (so perhaps that should be Maitresse D?) - remembered me from my last time at the restaurant and greeted me warmly enquiring after the friends I'd been with before. To be fair the last time we ended up staying 7.5 hours and drank our body weight. Twice. So it was logical she remembered such a good customer!
My colleague let on that he had spent a vast sum (around $1,000 US) on what he described as an "antique Breitling" in the Grand Bazaar. I pointed out that Istanbul's bustling indoor souq is not the most likely place to find authentic vintage timepieces... And that in fact it was known globally for being a centre for knock-off watches and copies.... He considered his purchase in light of this information and took a couple of deep breaths before pronouncing that he might not rush to get the watch valued any time soon... Ahem!
After a long day and reasonably liquid dinner there seemed little point in flogging a dead laptop so retired more or less gracefully and slept.
Unfortunately I awoke several times in the night paranoid that I had slept through my early alarm only to find it was 3am, 3.45am, 4.30am and 5.15am. When my alarm went off at 5.30 I of course snoozed it several times feeling exhausted.
Hauling myself out of bed I worked on my presentation for a couple of hours before ordering up a lovely plate of menemen (Turkish scrambled egg with onions, tomatoes and chilli) and strong black coffee.
Then off to morning and lunch meetings before the big presentation to the C-suite team of a major Turkish multi billion dollar conglomerate and its operating companies. . .
3 floors below ground I went into a super hi tech auditorium and set up my gear and sat back and waited for my audience to arrive.
About 40 CEOs, Managing Directors and CxOs arrived and then we waited for the Chairman whose company it is.... He flew up from a meeting with World Bank officials to attend the session.
I ended up speaking almost literally non-stop for 4 hours. There is barely an aspect of corporate communications I didn't cover... All standing under spotlights and no chair in sight.
It seemed to go very well and the Chairman - whom I have met before - was pleased. I was presented with gifts and shook the Chairman's hand in front of the company photographer.
After it was all over I almost collapsed from tiredness. The same driver that picked me up from the airport yesterday took me back to my hotel. He looked like a natural born killer and had muscles in places where I haven't even managed to grow fat yet and no hair - but his voice sounded like a falsetto Mickey Mouse. I managed not to laugh and thus get myself whacked by the Disney Serial Killer of Istanbul.
And now I am about to go out with friends for drinks and view an apartment which I might rent. It looks over Topkapi Palace.
Tomorrow I go to see another place near the Bosphorus University...
Soon I will have a home in Istanbul! Hurrah!
The Four Seasons Sultanahmet and a lovely dinner in the courtyard restaurant sitting outside. Pink champagne, a respectable Turkish Sauvignon Blanc, squid ink pasta and a lovely aged sirloin... Perfect.
The Maitre D - an Australian lady (so perhaps that should be Maitresse D?) - remembered me from my last time at the restaurant and greeted me warmly enquiring after the friends I'd been with before. To be fair the last time we ended up staying 7.5 hours and drank our body weight. Twice. So it was logical she remembered such a good customer!
My colleague let on that he had spent a vast sum (around $1,000 US) on what he described as an "antique Breitling" in the Grand Bazaar. I pointed out that Istanbul's bustling indoor souq is not the most likely place to find authentic vintage timepieces... And that in fact it was known globally for being a centre for knock-off watches and copies.... He considered his purchase in light of this information and took a couple of deep breaths before pronouncing that he might not rush to get the watch valued any time soon... Ahem!
After a long day and reasonably liquid dinner there seemed little point in flogging a dead laptop so retired more or less gracefully and slept.
Unfortunately I awoke several times in the night paranoid that I had slept through my early alarm only to find it was 3am, 3.45am, 4.30am and 5.15am. When my alarm went off at 5.30 I of course snoozed it several times feeling exhausted.
Hauling myself out of bed I worked on my presentation for a couple of hours before ordering up a lovely plate of menemen (Turkish scrambled egg with onions, tomatoes and chilli) and strong black coffee.
Then off to morning and lunch meetings before the big presentation to the C-suite team of a major Turkish multi billion dollar conglomerate and its operating companies. . .
3 floors below ground I went into a super hi tech auditorium and set up my gear and sat back and waited for my audience to arrive.
About 40 CEOs, Managing Directors and CxOs arrived and then we waited for the Chairman whose company it is.... He flew up from a meeting with World Bank officials to attend the session.
I ended up speaking almost literally non-stop for 4 hours. There is barely an aspect of corporate communications I didn't cover... All standing under spotlights and no chair in sight.
It seemed to go very well and the Chairman - whom I have met before - was pleased. I was presented with gifts and shook the Chairman's hand in front of the company photographer.
After it was all over I almost collapsed from tiredness. The same driver that picked me up from the airport yesterday took me back to my hotel. He looked like a natural born killer and had muscles in places where I haven't even managed to grow fat yet and no hair - but his voice sounded like a falsetto Mickey Mouse. I managed not to laugh and thus get myself whacked by the Disney Serial Killer of Istanbul.
And now I am about to go out with friends for drinks and view an apartment which I might rent. It looks over Topkapi Palace.
Tomorrow I go to see another place near the Bosphorus University...
Soon I will have a home in Istanbul! Hurrah!
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