Ko govorimo o haremu, vedno pomislimo na slabe stvari, na ženske, ki so bile na silo pripeljane in odpeljane s svojih domov ter ukradene svojim družinam … Vendar ni vse tako, kot slišimo. Harem je bil pravzaprav tudi, kraj, kjer je imela glavno besedo ženska. To je bil nareč edini kraj, kjer je o vseh stvareh odločala ženska. In katera je bila glavna? Žena sultana? Neeeee…. Pomisli, katera je vedno glavna ženska v moškem življenju?

Ja, njegova mamica In tudi v haremu je bila prva njegova mama, nato pa njegove hčerke. Šele za njimi so prišle tri najljubše žene, nato ljubice in ostale žene. Priležnice in sužnje so bile na dnu. Zanimivo kajne?

 No, na takšnem prestižnem dvorišču pa so uživala dekleta v haremu… Navsezadnje se jim spet ni godilo tako slabo. Vse sobe v zlatu, imele so kar so hotele, vsega na pretek…

Kādā 1909. gada vācu konversācijas vārdnīcā par latviešiem sacīts, ka tie ir strādīgi (agrākajā izdevumā “strādīgi”  vietā ir ” bailīgi”), pacietīgi un lokani, vaļsirdīgi, viesmīlīgi, bet neuzticīgi un apslēpti pret saviem kungiem. Savukārt, kādā tā paša laika J. Velmes izdevumā minēts, ka latvieši ir lieli individuālisti, kas grib rīkoties katrs par sevi. Tie ir sīksti un izturīgi. Pat visnelabvēlīgākajos apstākļos viņi palikuši nesalauzti un izturējuši līdz galam.

Kad man cittautietim jāstāsta par to, kāds tad ir tas latvietis, neko vairāk par “strādīgi” un “skopi” nevar izdomāt – tagad varēšu izvilkt špikeri. Jo pa šiem simts gadiem gandrīz nekas jau nav mainījies.

Un tomēr… Latvieši, sajūtot, ka tie “kungi” ir sen jau kā projām, sāk no gultas apakšām pa lēnām izvilkt savu godīgumu un taisnīgumu. Par to liecina 2 neapgāžami fakti:

1. Shodien manam turku draugam Ozi piezvanīja no Turcijas vēstniecības Rīgā un paziņoja, ka kāds (pieņemsim, ka latvietis) ir atnesis pirms 2 nedēļām nozaudēto pasi un telefonu. Ozi lūdza man nodot sveicienus visiem  foršajiem latviešiem, kas lasa Kleitu. “My respect for latvians.”  – viņš saka.

2. Arī es, kad nesen vienkārši atstāju telefonu 18-tajā trolejbusā – jau vieglprātīgi cerēju, ka drīz būs jauns nesaplīsis telefons. Iztēlojos, kā visiem draugos sūtu vēstuli par telefongrāmatiņas nozaudēšanu un tad vismaz kādu nedēļu saņemu daudz vēstuļu. Bet nekā. Tika sazvanīta mana mamma un kāda nenormāli jauka Elīna no Purvciema, atrasto telefonu nodeva atpakaļ. Un bija visai pierunājama pieņemt nelielo atlīdzību.

Nu ko, foršais latvieti, paldies par 2 telefoniem un pasi. Tiešām paldies. Pastāsti, kas tur vēl Tev zem tās gultas labs paslēpies!?

Ēdu vakariņas ar diviem puišiem – meksikāni un turku. Mēs mēģinājām dalīties savā kultūru pieredzē un papildināt savas zināšanas vienam par otru.

Saruna nonāca līdz tautu rituāliem un izrādās Meksikā katrai meitenei, kas sasniedz 15 gadu vecumu tiek rīkota baigā ballīte. Ballīte, kurā meitenei iedod pēdējo rotaļlietu, jo nu viņa kļūst par sievieti. Sabrauc daudz radu un draugu, tiek spēlēta mūzika un kopumā dzīrots godam. Ap šo meiteni dejo desmitiem puišu, dejā iekļaujot godinošas kustības, kā princesi cildinot. Ballīte ir dārgs pasākums, tāpēc vecākiem nereti nākas pārdot mašīnu vai ilgstoši iekrāt naudu, lai atļautos šādu meitas ievešanu dzīvē.

Puišiem Meksikā nekādas ballītes rīkotas netiek, taču viņiem tiek tas prieks (un tas tiešām tiek uztverts kā prieks) uzdejot māsām un citām meitenēm, tādējādi nostiprinot viņos pārliecību, ka pret meitenēm un sievietēm jāizturas kā pret princesēm. Un šāda izturēšanās viņiem ir tikpat dabiska kā no rīta mosties.

Savukārt Turcijā īpaši puišiem ir paredzēts rituāls – apgraizīšana. (Ticiet man, es par to netaujāju!)

Viņš sacīja, ka, sasniedzot septiņu gadu vecumu, viņam ģimene izstāstījusi par lielo godu, kas viņa tiks izrādīts un kas viņam jadara šajā sakarā. Ģimene sarīkojusi milzu ballīti, kur radi un draugi varēja nosvinēt puiša apgraizīšanas svētkus. Viņš neesot sabijies, taču izrādās visvairāk bijis pārsteigts par to, ka viņa gadījumā šī procedūra nenotika publiski, bet divatā un, ka viņam aizklātas acis pirms tam, brīdinot, ka viss viņa lepnums nogriezts netiks.

Visnepatīkamākais šajā procesā esot bijusi pārsēja noņemšana (šajā brīdī, viņš atzina, ka, iespējams, notikumu man atspoguļo pārāk sīkās detaļās, taču atzina, ka to nepieminēt nevar). Viņš sacīja, ka tās esot bijušas spēcīgākās sāpes viņa mūžā. Taču no procedūras brīža līdz pārsēja noņemšanai viņam aptuveni nedēļu bija jāvalkā tādi plati pantoloni, lai sevi lieki netraumētu. Šo pantolonu valkāšana gan esot bijis ļoti patīkams process. Pēc pantoloniem uz ielas arī varot noteikt, kurš puisītis nesen apgraizīts.

Vēl arvien šodien viņš domā, ka apgraizīšana bija tā vērta (arī meksikānis, viņu atbalstoši, piekrīt) – par godu šai ballītei viņš esot ieguvis savu pirmo datoru un riteni. Šādas mantas tik viegli Turcijā viņš citādāk nedabūtu. Arī savus bērnus viņš plāno vest cauri šai pašai pieredzei, ja viņš tos radīs Turcijā.

Es diemžēl, uzklausot šos bagātīgos stāstus, paliku bez vārdiem. Nevarēju iedomāties par kādiem īpašiem rituāliem Latvijā, kas būtu ar to salīdzināmi.

Izcili! man ir e-pasts no mana mentora. viņš raksta, ka labprāt sagaidīs mani lidostā, kad es ieradīšos. Sirin, es ierados 11.septembrī. šodien ir 17. Labrīt, draudziņ!

“Also if you get bored, I will try my best to accompany you for having a drink ” un kur paliek ramadāns?

vispār par turkiem un ramadānu es vēl uzrakstīšu. tas ir ļoti interesanti. bet to vēlāk, kad būs iedvesma.

vakarā

Šodien šeit bija īpaši silts. Vismaz 36 grādi. Pamostoties pēc diendusas tagad ir tikai 33. Atvieglojums!

Un vakara pārsteigums – pie debesīm karājas daži mākoņi. Nesaprotu! Gan jau drīz aizies, no kurienes nākuši. Lai gan šeit vēl ir daudzas lietas, kuras nesaprotu.

When I was in Turkey, I saw these two children playing around… And when the boy got his corn, he sat down and tried to eat it. And then the girl came. I think she was his sister. She stepped up to him, looked in his eyes and quietly with no word asked him for some corn. But he just looked at her and said nothing and still continued eating corn. And every single drop of corn that fell down on his trousers from his mouth or hands she took and put in her mouth. Interesting? Funny?

Is there anything to say? I think this picture tells you everything…

There were soooo hot days in Istanbul, that sometimes me and Polona just sat down on the grass between Blue Mosque and Haghia Sophia where there is a little green park and enjoying in the cold shade. Hundreads of people passed by, multiple nationality and reliegions, all different, but all the same. They were all there to see the city beat and we were all captured in the heat of the day.

Each of us tried to capture a moment that we will remember for the rest of our days, but my camera captured these two pics in a moment… Young and old couple just sitting down, talking and stearing to each other… It seemed to me that they understood everything just with looking at their better half… Isn`t that something special? Isn`t that magic?

]]> http://hunney.wordpress.com/2008/08/06/fun-at-the-metro-station/ Wed, 06 Aug 2008 16:00:02 +0000 Petra Nuzdorfer http://hunney.wordpress.com/2008/08/06/fun-at-the-metro-station/

Me and Polona (my new travel buddy ) went to the metro station to get on the other side of Istanbul. I would never tought that I will have so much fun somewhere underground. We don`t have metro in Slovenija so everything was quite new to me. Well, I have seen it in London, but here was something else. Like I haven`t seen it before. Those steps and tunels, how many of them… and the tunels are so long you can get lost…

If you wait a little and just stop for a second at the station… you can see that everything can stop, everything but the lifes of the others… In the mirror you can see people running around and going somewhere, they are in a hurry, but not you… your life is on hold for few seconds, minutes…

And how funny are the moving staircase… People rather go on moving one instead of just walking… no! they will be faster if they don`t walk… ha ha ha So Polona went on the moving staircase and I didn`t. ok, she was faster… for a second!!!  And then we stopped again beside the mirrors ofcourse and we had a little fun. Well at least I did. Cause I had a camera in my hand and Polona didn`t… yeah I know you remember girl, it was really fun.

Especially when Polona was making fun of herself and was making crazy faces at the mirror. Ofcourse everybody who passed by saw us and gave us really wird look. Polona, do you remmember? And you were blushing!!! ha ha ha     And I couldn`t give Polona all the fun, so I stepped infront of the mirror too and took a pics of us….

And you know what? When we took the last pic we almost run out of the tunels to somewhere we couldn`t be seen Maybe we run to Starbucks for a coffee… Polona, do you remember?

I always knew that elders are wise. Some of them are not smart, but in most of them you can see all that great wisdom that you only can get with years of learning, teaching and ofcourse life. When I was younger I always wondered how do my granny knows so much about world… about everything! She must be so smart! But now I understand that life made her that way trough experiences, mistakes, falls…

When I look at this women all I can see is wisdom, kindnesss, good-heartness… You can see from their faces what kind of life the have, what have they done in the past, what are their worries… All this women and men were sitting for the whole day in the park just talking, exchanging opinions and discussing about every day matters… I wondered what they were discussing about? What do you think?

Life has few phases… and each phease define one part of our lifes which is special just because we are in that particular moment in that phase.

When you are old, others take care of you and you are known for your wisdom and knowledge. When you are in middle age you  work and take care of your children and make sure that they are ok. When you are a teenager or in your 20`s you explore your limits and search the world.

And when you are a child… oh yes… this is a time of happiness and joy!!! You don`t have to think about anything else then where are you gonna play and who you are gonna play with… that`s all you should think about…

But somewhere in this world, not far away from us, there are children that work for the whole day just to earn some money for their families. They dont know the real meaning of beeing a child…

When I was in Diyarbakir (East Turkey) I saw so many children. One porer than the other. But not all of them were outside running and playing with the others… It`s hard when you see a small child sitting on the small shair with so big hammer in his hand that he can hardly  hold it and is working so hard just to earn few cents for his family. They didn`t mind us beeing there, watching them working, taking pictures of their work, they didn`t even move their head and looked at us, cause this would mean more work for all the the lost minutes…

And this is very hard work for so small children… But there this is legal and they can work as much as they can. Even if that means working in a home ironworks or repearing cars. This boy was repearing very old car (I don`t think it was working at all) and was so dirty over his face thet you could only see dark brown eyes shining out and he had such beautiful smile (as you can see)… He was lovely…

I don`t rememeber knowing anybody that would work as they were kids… never… and that is why this is so hard to believe for me… When I was a little I had no woories, no problems, I wasn`t thinking what I`m gonna do the next day… All that I wanted to know was where were my toys, my friends, when are we going to the playground, if I`m gonna win or lose in some silly game… this were my worries. And they are not the same as those childrens. And I`m sad for it… Some of them will never taste the sweetness of beeing a child, just bitterness and sorrow…

But not every child worked in such a terrible conditions… Some of them were working on the streets and selling 1001 thing. Almost everything you could find in your home… anything that sells…

When we were walking down the streets I captured a rougish look of a young boy who was selling watermelons… He had his vagon full of fruit directly on the street… I have never seen that someone would have a vagon or a booth on the  street. I`m used that booths are on the sidewalk or on the arranged places. But not on the steet! But this is how they have it there. Ok. We stepped over to him and bought few melons for us and for hungry kids that was following us for the whole day long.

And as you walk trouhg the city you can see children with strange hats… This is what we touhgt at the first sight. When we came closer we saw they have plates with food on their heads. They were seeling round bread (I have tried it and it was very good), funny little roolings with vegetable and meat inside… They were so in to it that they didn`t need their hands to hold the plates on their heads… If I would walk with this plate ful of goodies on my head  like I usually do the plate would not subsist on my head more than 1 second…

You can buy this everytime of the day from dawn to sunset and every time it tastes like it`s fresh from the backery. And it`s not expensive, not at all… If you ever see kids selling this bread, buy it! You won`t be sorry! Believe me…

Any comments?

Every day we accept hundred of decisions… Some of them are good, some of them are bad. It depends of the timing and the situation we are in… But at the time we don`t know if our decision was correct. Each day of our lifes showing us our progress and hopes…

Some people are simply not satisfied with their life. The reasons are different from person to person… sometimes is poverty, depresion, hopes and expectations of others… and on the other side richness, greedyness and having everything. So… what is perfect life? Does anybody has it?

Most of people are just stearing from the darkness through a big wide window like in the picture and hoping to see some kind of light and shining future, maybe better tomorrow… maybe a life of someone else…

This post is for all participants of the US Diyarbakir 2008… Read, rememeber, enjoy…

My first post about Turkey I`m gonna dedicate to the ones I love the most: the children.

Everyone who knows me know that my life would be empty and dark without smile, laughter and inocence of children that surround me. I can never resist to look at them, give a smile back and even take a pic of their lovely faces. What impresses me the most are those two little eyes that stares at you like you are the most important person in that moment and this is what lifts me up every time…

But the eyes of kids in Diyarbakir were different… When you looked at them you could see joy, cheerfulness, carefreeness,… but if you really looked, deep in the eyes… you could see sadness and darkness…How come? They are so small… It`s not jet their time to be worried… they should be playing and having fun with no worries on their mind…

When I walk on the streets of Ljubljana or almost any other place in Slovenija, I see parents holding hands with their children and carring then on their shoulders… They are always so carefull and worried for their little ones. What if something happenes to them? What if they mess their new clothes? What if they fall? What if they get lost in the crowd? What if… ? What if…? So many questions and so many worries…

This summer I went with AEGEE Organization to Diyarbakir Summer University in the east of Turkey. The city is small, interesting, very religious, full of dust of the nearby “desert”… Me and my group often took a walk around the City walls of Diyarbakir. Everytime we went there a hudge crowd of children came to us and they were saying: What`s your name? Money money money… photo photo photo… I think this were the only phrases they knew and they were constantly repeating it.

At first we really liked the attention they gave us. So we tried to answer them and took some pics of them, but after a couple of hours (yes, hours) when we walked to the other side of the city we realised they are still there. They were following us from the start.

Some of my friends didn`t even matter, but for me this was scary and outrageous. Where were the parents for all this time? Why were those kids alone? Is there nobody taking care of them? What if something happenes to them?

I started to think like every European parent… but later in few days of my horror I realised that those children are from very poor families and they are left to their`s own for the whole day, every day. Partents don`t take care of them as they should. And on my surprise, nobody even cares!

Well, it was very interesting… when we were taking pics of them most children were not faking and were just like they really were, but some of them, mostly older ones, wanted to be on the pics so they were pushing little brothers and sisters away from us… and when I finally got a shoot they just walked up tome and said: Money money! They wanted some money for the pic I made! I couldn`t believe my ears… And even when I walked away with my group they run after us and screamed: Money money! It was so funny…

One day we were taking pics of the city walls and we climbed on the stairs of the walls… and I couldn`t believe my own eyes… Kids were climbing directly on the walls, holding just with their bare hands. Do you wanna know why? They wanted to be on the pictures… But i still don`t get it why… They will never see this pics… Maybe that when we see them on the pics we would remember them?

Oh yes, this little boy… He was just standing there and watching us from the distance. I look at him and stept up to him. He didn`t even move or change his face. He was looking at me with this sad face and wanted to tell me something. Unfortinetly I couldn`t understand him… And this girl! I guess she had a cold cause she sniffled all the time and she had a big snot (snivel) hanging out of her nose.

Well most of the kids didn`t know what to do so they were running after us and trying to get on the photo or just sitting at the door step of their home. What a life…

I hope they know I will always remember them cause they made my days in Diyarbakir happier and made me more powerful… They made my day, always…

I would really appreciate comments on the post, from the participants and also from others… It`s just a feedback to my work… Thanks a lot! New posts soon…

Ne, pa ne igrajo!

In čas je že za en minimalizem Tega sem pobrala od Sparkija

Po dnevu pocitka v Amasyi, kjer sva stanovala v lepo obnovljeni, tradicionalni Otomanski hisi in uzivala ves luksuz, ki ti ga lahko nudi vroc tus ter udobna postelja, sva jo z Rogerjem mahnila naprej prioti vzhodu. Kilometri skozi hribovito pokrajino, kjer se izmenjujejo rizeva polja, pasniki, gozdovi ter polja psenice. Nestei caji ob poti in iskanje prostora za sotor zvecer so bili stalnica. Za dodatno popestritev tega dela poti pa sem poskrbel jaz, ko sem nekega jutra neprevidno zaprl torbo na balanci. Po kakih 40km “razgibane” ceste mi pri preckanju enega mosta ven pade majhen zvezcek z mislimi prijateljev in znancev s poslovilnega zura.

Ustavim se, da ga poberem, ko opazim, da mi v torbi manjka denarnica. Ocitno je ven padla na podoben nacin kot zvezcek. Obrneva se, da jo greva poiskat. Po 15km ugotovim, da je to iskanje brezuspesno in tako uporabim Rogerjev telefon, da preklicem staro in narocim novo bancno kartico. Z bratovo (Matjazevo) in prijateljevo (Matijino) pomocjo mi bo DHL novo dostavil v Teheran. Se dobro, da se ob odhodu na tako pot pripravis na razlicne situacije, ena izmed njih je tudi kraja. Tako sedaj se vedno lahko uzivam potovanje in se zaradi izgubljenih 80 evrov in kartice ne sekiram prevec.

Se vedno namrec raje vidim, da denarnico izgubim, kot pa da mi jo ukradejo. No, da niti ne omenjam, da sem veliko bolj vesel, da sem izgubil denarnico kot pa ce bi izgubil ze omenjeni zvezcek z mislimi.

Cilj v vzhodni Turciji je bil Erzurum. Tu se nahaja Iranski konzulat in Insh’Allah najini vizi.

Ze ob prihodu v mesto srecava tri studente kemije, ki nama pomagajo najti poceni hotel. Dogovorimo se, da si zvecer skupaj ogledamo finalno tekmo Lige prvakov. V upanju na zivahno atmosfero nekega studentskega lokala in mogoce piva, se veseliva vecera.

Zvecer pivo vidiva samo skozi zaprta vrata neke trgovine, lokal kamor naju studentje odpeljejo pa prazen. Skozi pogovor ugotoviva, da so ti studentje dokaj konzervativni muslimani in zatorj alkohola niti ne pogledajo, veliko platno pa jim zadosca za ustrezno atmosfero. No, vsaj tekma je bila zanimiva.

Naslednji dan pa natrpan urnik. Konzulat, banka, konzulat – zaprt, caj, konzulat in cakanje ali jim bo uspelo se danes nalepiti nalepko z vizo v potni list. Ob petih, ko se konzulat zapira pa, viza OK, samo jo dobita sele cez dva dneva. Jutri je namrec petek (v vecini muslimanskih drzav je to nadomestilo za naso nedeljo). Ko ga jaz z nekoliko razocaranim tonom glasu vprasam, zakaj ne danes, pa se stric nasmehne in rece, OK, pa danes. Hec?!

Tako, z nalepko vec v potnem listu naprej na vzhod.

Takole malo za pokusino obljubljene fotke iz Turcije. Teksta pa mi ne rata in ne rata pretipkat na racunalnik, zato se bom, samo za vas, ponovno potrudil jutri. Lepo se imejte doma.

V vrvezu İstanbula sta najini kolesi pocivali v kleti hotela. Dokaj necastno
mesto, a varno in to je pomembno. Noge so malo prostestirale, ko so se spet
srecale s pedali, a dusa se je radostila. Ven iz te velemestne utesnjenosti,
nazaj na mir in spokojnost ceste.
Kmalu so se priceli prvi vzponi in do njijh so se tudi noge spet navadile ritma
kolesa. Tako sem se jih lahko lotil z vso vznesenostjo, ki jo s sabo prinese
obcutek trdega dela in bogate nagrade ob obetajocem se spustu.
Dvignila sva se na planoto osrednje Turcije in okolica se je spremenila. Urbana
naselja so zamenjali prostrani pasniki ter crede zivine. Ostajajo pa vecni
spremljevalci, dobri ljudje, ki se ti nasmehnejo in pomahajo v pozdrav.
Lepo je tu in vesel sem, da mi telo dobro sluzi. Kljub odsotnosti vnaprejsnjih
predpriprav (z Lojzom sva doma naredila kvecemu 200km) nimam nobenih tezav z
zdravjem ali kondicijo. Dobrih 200km se pocasi odraza na mojih stegnih in
verjamem, da bom se pred koncem Turcije ze povsem v formi. Narava zna
poskrbeti, da se telo privadi novim situacijam.

Prihodnjic pa upam da se kaka fotka za podkrepitev besed ter se kak tekst na temo izgubljene denarnice. Za enkrat samo toliko, da se kljub temu nekako znajdem in da se pot nadaljuje.

Sestpasovnica proti İstanbulu je prava preizkusnja za zivce. V tistem norem
toku avtomobilov in kamionov se moras ves cas boriti za svojih pol metra roba
ceste. Hkrati pa moras se pazit, da ti na kakem vkljucevalnem pasu kdo
mimogrede ne odnese riti. A na koncu je nagrada. Zanikrna sobica, ki pa ti
predstavlja odlicno izhodisce za odkrivanje carobnosti te enkratne mesanice
vzhoda in zahoda, ki jo predstavlja İstanbul. İn en izmed sarmov tega
mesta je tudi hrana. To sem vedel ze iz moje poprejsnje izkusnje s tem mestom in se tega tudi ze v naprej veselil. Obcestni lokali s hrano, ki ponujajo kebab na tisoc in en nacin. Sveza zelenjava, kruh in riz pa so okusen dodatek razlicnemu mesu.
A zajtrka si z Rogerjem ne dava vzeti. Jogurt z medom in kosmici, kruh z
Nutello, za povrh pa se kak topljen sircek so stalnica. Tako v hotelskih
luknjah kot na prostranih mizah priloznostnih taborisc.
Okusi İstanbula so bili z nama tri dni, nato pa skok cez Bospor in v Azijo
v nadaljnje raziskovanje turske kuhinje.

Zbogom Evropa, se vidimo!

Takole, pa so prisle na vrsto se fotke. Za pokusino samo par, ker nimam veliko cajta na netu, jih pa v bodoce obljubljam se vec, sedaj ko vem kako to naredit.

Janz, hvala za napotke. Kot vidis dela!

Every person, community, village, city, state, coutry… each nationality… they all have one common thing. Each of them have thier own religion, something they believe in… There are Christians, Muslims, Orthodoxs, Budists… and some of us are Atheists. But I think that all of us want to believe in something, in “someone”… don`t know why but this is just the way it is…

I`m more familiar with the Bible book… well, I have seen it In Turkey they have Koran. There are mostly Muslims and the words are spreading that they are really realigious. Well one day I saw bounch (let say more than 100) of women and children infront of city mosque in Diyarbakir and I was wondering why are all just sitting there. Were they waiting for something? Later they explaind to me that they were waiting for their husbands who were inside the moaque cause it was prayer time. And I remember I saw women with books, then I realised they were reading Koran. But… How can they read calligraphy with which is Koran written? well, this is another funny thing… They do read it, but they don`t understand what they are reading about. Someone told them this is a book of life and that is why they are reading it every single day… How can it be your “book of life” if you don`t know what you are reading about? That`s why I reather read novels… I mostly know what I`m reading about…