A Filmmaker's Trek to Istanbul

Photos

2006-07-04T15:49:00.000-07:00

Nicole and I awakened to this view from our hotel window: the sun rising over The Bosphorus or Bosporus, also known as Istanbul Strait. The world's narrowest strait used for international navigation, it connects the Black Sea with the Sea of Marmara (which is connected by the Dardanelles to the Aegean Sea, and thereby to the Mediterranean Sea). It is approximately 30 km long, with a maximum width of 3,700 metres at the northern entrance, and a minimum width of 700 metres between Kandilli and Aşiyan; and 750 metres between Anadoluhisarı and Rumelihisarı. The depth varies from 36 to 124 metres in midstream. The Bospohorus has a long history that is amazing, so if you're a history buff like I am, there is plenty to learn about.

We saw tankers and boats, and crusing ships coasting along the water. We also awoke to sounds of water, of sea gulls, and sounds of the call to prayer that happens 5 times a day. If you've never experienced being in a country that broadcasts singing to call Muslims to prayer, it is an amazing experience. The songs are Arabic prayers, the singers have amazing voices, and there's usually a concert of many calls to prayers from different mosques, who wait for seconds for their turn, so it's like there are echos. This goes on for maybe five to ten minutes. It was better than being awakened by an alarm clock. This is the other view from the hotel window, and tiled roofed homes were picturesque. Definite eye candy and a treat, given that we arrived so late, and couldn't see much in the night. This was worth the jet lag and the 16 hours of flying.

Our Arrival: Turkey Welcomes Us

2006-06-04T10:57:00.000-07:00

Nicole and I landed at the Istanbul International Airport, named after the famed Ataturk, the country's modern day hero, and national unifyer. We got in at night, after 11:30pm, but in Istanbul that means nothing. It is a city that truly never sleeps, a city that operates on the premise of 24-7. Nicole and I were lucky enough to be picked up by the film festival coordinators Onder and his wife. We also picked up another member of the festival, who had flown in from San Franciso via London, and we all squeezed into Onder's car. We left the airport, and traveled the freeways, where I got my first taste of what driving in Turkey is like. The roads were crowded well after midnight. The driving was...well a few words should clue you in: crazy, nightmarish. Now, I grew up and learned to drive in New York City, The Boogie Down Bronx, which is pretty imfamous when it comes to driving in the city. My friends, Richard and Craig, were partially responsible for me finally getting a driver's license. For years, I was like many New Yorkers; I took subways, buses, and relied on other drivers to get me around. When I knew I would eventually move to California, to experience the crazy quest to make it in Hollywood, I began to seriously learn how to drive. At first it was difficult: the near fatal accidents, the constant jay-walking pedestrians, the reckless, life threatening driving on crazy road systems riddled with bad design, and crater-sized potholes. Eventually, I got the hang of it, the rhythm of NYC driving, and I became one of the Romans in Rome. Many people have often asked if I learned how to drive from a taxi driver. That to me, is a compliment; to some that means their hearts skip a beat when I'm driving. But my record stands for itself, mostly safe. While sitting in Onder's car, watching him drive like a New Yorker on steroids and crystal meth, me in the death seat beside him, I quickly learned what kind of reputation Turkish drivers have. They are worse than New Yorkers. Worse than the lunatics in Los Angeles; they are most like drivers in Rome and Mexico City. Though I've never been to either place yet, I've always thought I could keep paces with those crazy drivers. Let me just tell you that I no longer have any desire to drive in these places, so I thank Turkey for that. Still, it was kind of Onder to pick us up. This was to be one of many of my experiences with Turks, and of how warm, generous, and hospitable they are.

That night we arrived we were taken to Sed Hotel. Because my trip was sponsored by a Turkish doctor's association interested in learning about the Cuban and American healthcare systems, Nicole and I were put up in a great place -- Sed Hotel. Located in Taxsim, near the Bosphorus, it is a great neighborhood, one conducive to walking, shopping, sightseeing, clubbing, bumping into people at the square, at the park , and even along the side streets where there are a multitude of cafes, bars, restaurants, and clubs. After being stuck in traffic in Taxsim, we arrived at the hotel well after midnight, and between the late hour, and the jet lag, Nicole and I decided to forgo checking out the night life; instead, we crashed for the night. The next morning, we awoke to the wonderful sights and sounds of Istanbul, a city of 9+ million people ( many say 14 million), a city thousands of miles away from California, a world full of adventure to come. Here are some of the photos we took, and here are some of the stories that came with the journey.

One Week After My Return

2006-05-31T08:25:00.000-07:00

Merhaba folks,
That's Turkish for Hello. It has been a week since my return from Turkey, and what an adventure it was staying for nearly a month. I was scheduled to visit for 2 weeks, and extended my visit for another 2 weeks. And as traveling influences one's life, my trip to Turkey has definitely left indelible marks I will cherish forever. I succeeded in meeting fellow filmmakers from South Africa, South Korea, Israel, and Turkey, to name a few. I met the film festival coordinators and volunteers, who are amazing people juggling too many hats, but making it all worth while. In a few words, the film festival was a great experience. But my trip also included meeting Turks, and Kurds, men, women, and children, even old people, an Iraqi gentleman, and learning about what life is like for people on the other side of the world. It was inspiring, heart breaking, invigorating. I even managed to connect with my independent Turkish hip hop group, find African migrants living amidst Turkish society, do some sight seeing in between, travel to Ankara via train, while also coproduce, write and direct a short movie that was divinely inspired. And despite returning to Los Angeles with a terrible illness, and the fear that I could have contracted bird flu, (don't worry, I don't think I have), all things considered, my trip to Turkey was a success. If you're interested in learning more about the details, keep in touch with my blog as I include photos and stories about a filmmaker's trek to Istanbul, Turkey.

First things first, the trek to get there. Flying to Turkey, which was a 16 hour voyage -- 12 hours from L.A. to Germany, and 2.5 hours to Turkey from Europe, was the best flight I have experienced. Though I consider myself a globe trekker, I am not necessarily someone so comfortable with being suspended up in the air for long periods of time. I may look mild-mannered, but internally there is a raging battle of fear I am always having to confront everytime I get on a plane. This time it was a bit different. Nicole and I flew Lufthansa, and all I kept saying was how happy I was to have flown with German pilots. Their take offs and landings were exceptionally smooth and comforting. Guess there is something to that German efficiency. Loved it. For anyone a bit squeemish about flying, worry not. Fly Lufthansa. Danke.

Once we landed in Munich, we learned that we had a 6 HOUR lay over, just to get to a place that was only 2.5 hours away. That was discouraging after a long flight. Walking around the airport was also a bit disconcerting, given the different cultural vibes. What do I mean by that? The Munich airport was so QUIET!!! I'm used to loud: people talking, noises everywhere, but there was none of that. It seems that Germans are quiet people. Nicole told me stories of her childhood growing up in a family that is culturally German, and of how she recalled stories of her relatives visiting Germany, and them noticing the quietness, the way doors were always kept closed in German homes. Since she comes from a loud, boisterous family, the Munich Airport was a cultural experience for her. As for me, I'm also from a loud, big, noisy family where we would get into big, impassioned, knock down, drag out fights over politics, movies, whatever; the point was, there was always a rucus shaking the walls when I was a kid. So, for me, walking around the Munich Airport felt like I was in a museum, where the secuirty guards were waiting to shush me at every turn. Using the Munich Airport bathroom was definitely cool, because it was so quiet, and so clean, and efficient. There were even little wipees available to disinfect the toilet seats, and the bathroom stall doors isolated the user in solitude. I was impressed by it all, yet when I was washing my hands at the sink, I still felt loud telling Nicole how impressed I was. After wandering around for a half hour, Nicole and I decided that we should make the best of our six hour lay over.

We took the train into the center of Munich and wandered around in the rain. We saw churches, lovely cobblestoned streets with shops, and I saw so many people that looked like Nicole, I kept joking with her, that she should kiss the ground, because she had returned to her Motherland. People even spoke to her in German, believing that she was German, a definite opposite from our trip to Cuba, where everyone thought I was Cuban.

Though we were only in Munich for a few hours, I enjoyed our day trek. The train was wonderful, easy to use, and efficient. We saw perfect plots of green land, farms, which Nicole said reminded her of Nebraska, where lots of German-Americans live. We saw German graffiti, which was cool, a personal favorite of mine, since I love graff artwork. Before heading back to the Munich Airport, we had tea in a Turkish restaurant, a precursor of what was to come, and where I tried brushing up on my Turkish. Tea= cay. What amazed me was despite not understanding German, I did notice how some Germans mistreated Turks. In the Turkish restaurant, I saw an older German couple speak sharply to a Turkish Worker, and even rudely disregard that Turk, treating him as if he were stupid. Being of African descent, I am aware of such disrespect and mistreatment, and it reminded me of the ugly racism many of us people of color experience in the United States. This started me thinking about what life is like for Turks living in Germany. After some initial research before traveling, I have learned that many Turks feel they are not accepted by Germany society. It also seems that a large portion of Germans do not consider Turks to be white, and certainly not German enough, even the Turkish-Germans born there, whose first language is German. So, it made me wonder a few things: how do modern societies deal with multiethnic, multicultural peoples, and how do Turks categorize themselves? Not all, but many Turks certainly have light skin, so aside from cultural differences, what constitutes whiteness, or Europeanness? The face of Europe is really changing, and European identity can no longer be equated with the human construct of race, and skin color, so Europeans are being forced to deal with such issues. Little did I know that in the near future I would have many conversations in Turkey that would flesh out issues of "race," skin color, and national identity.

On the train back to Munich Airport, we encountered two Columbian woman. They were speaking Spanish, and loudly, which was music to our ears, and reminded of us the United States. The Columbians noticed our interest, and we chatted with them in Spanish. We learned that one of the women is married to a German man, and she also thought that Germans were too quiet, and that her in-laws thought she was too loud. Man, did we relate. These women were loud, warm, and wonderful, and when our train pulled into the airport station, though we were all strangers who'd briefly met on a train, in passing, we kissed each other, a sign of our mutual loud kinship, and wished each other bon voyage. Traveling is so conducive such experiences.

The Week Before Istanbul

2006-04-22T15:38:00.000-07:00

Well, folks, yes, my documentary Bloodletting is again taking me somewhere out of the United States. This time the point of destination is Istanbul, Turkey!!! I have been invisted to screen in the Istanbul Labor Film Festival on May Day 2006. The coordinators have been so gracious as to provide me with a ticket, and so I am taking their offer and going. Luckily and last minute Nicole is also trekking with me for a few days. We leave LAX onf Friday April 28th. The journey will take 17 hours. We go to Munich, Germany to connect with a connecting flight, and eventually get to Turkey. I will be there for a few weeks, participating in the festival, but also tracking down the Turkish hip hop scene while directing a narrative short about African immigrants living in Istanbul. As usual, I'm certain I will encounter things I never imagined, so please keep in touch as I trek to Istanbul. For information on the festival here is the address: www.sendika.org/laborfest.

Ciao.